A Rogue's Heart
by Wicked Raygun
Summary: For Xander Harris, the Hero of Ferelden, sacrifice is only the beginning. He ends the Blight, only to return to the home he no longer has a place in. Xander/Leliana.
1. Part 1,  Prologue

**Title:** A Rogue's Heart – Part 1, Prologue

**Author:** Wicked Raygun

**Email:** wicked_

**Summary:** For Xander Harris, the Hero of Ferelden, sacrifice is only the beginning. He ends the Blight, only to return to the home he no longer has a place in. Xander/Leliana.

**Disclaimer:** Based on characters created by Joss Whedon, and Bioware. I am merely borrowing them to put on a puppet show. Watch them dance.

**Notes:** This story is mostly a series of character pieces with sporadic action thrown in for variety. There's no real plan for this. I'll post chapters as they come to me. I'll be referring to events in the Dragon Age: Origins video game using Interludes. Chapters will actually continue the story forward.

**Spoilers:** And how! Events take place in the summer after season 3 of BTVS, moving into season 4. And all the events of Dragon Age: Origins, possibly including the various DLC are up for grabs. If you aren't familiar with Dragon Age, then lower your head in shame. Go on. Lower it.

**Distribution:** Ask and you shall receive. Just email me and I'll get back to you quickly using new-fangled technology. See, I get email on my phone now. Surely jet packs and flying cars are just around the corner.

* * *

**A Rogue's Heart**

**Part 1****, Prologue**

It was almost anticlimactic, once everything was said and done. The combined might of an army comprised of humans, elves, and dwarves, of men and women, of soldiers and volunteers, from the very old to the far too young, had driven this beast back to this place, at this time. It had been worn down by ballista and arrows, by swords and spears, by brute force and ancient magic.

And now, so close to the end, it looked pathetic.

This dragon, this so-called Archdemon, this Bringer of the Blight, this Old God, this wretched remnant of man's hubris, was dying gracelessly. It flapped around clumsily like a fish out of water. Its death throes were anything but fearsome. It was almost sad that it would end like this. So many deaths to avenge, and there was no satisfaction to be had, just a grim need to end it for good.

But for that, a Warden was needed.

Alistair and Xander, the last two Grey Wardens in all of Ferelden, stood side-by-side, tired and bleeding, their faces grim.

"So what do you think? Should we draw straws?" Alistair said sadly.

Xander smiled. "I was thinking more along the lines of flipping a coin."

"One flip? Or best two out of three?"

"Oh, just the one. I'm not sure I could stand the suspense."

"Excellent. Only one small problem: does the winner get to live or die?"

They both laughed hollowly.

"I'm a king now, you know. I could just order you to let me do it."

"Yeah, well, I was never one to recognize the legitimacy of a chauvinistic monarchy anyway."

"Oh, yes, because this democracy thing you rave about has worked just smashingly for the dwarves."

Another hollow laugh shared between friends. It would be the last.

Xander looked out into the battlefield where Leliana was unconscious and being treated by Wynne, who had the most intense look on her face that he could ever remember seeing. Vaguely, he wondered if Wynne had tapped into the power of the spirit keeping her alive, and if her moments too were numbered.

Nearly every instinct in his being demanded that he go to Leliana now, save for one, the instinct of the Grey Warden. He could feel his tainted blood calling out to him to finish it, to destroy the Archdemon.

Alistair must have felt it too, because he tried again to convince Xander to let him go. He spoke about how he'd be a lousy king, and it would be better if he just ended it now, and spared Ferelden his clumsy rule.

"I think you'll do okay."

Alistair gave him a hard disbelieving look.

"You care about people, Alistair. I don't know if that's enough. But it certainly seems like a good place to start." Xander took a deep breath. "So do me a favor and stop trying to be a martyr. That's my job."

He gave his friend one last sad smile.

"Do you want me to tell her anything?"

Xander shook his head. "We talked last night. She knew this was coming. And she knows how I feel. There comes a point where there's nothing left to say, except 'goodbye'."

"Goodbye, Xander."

"Goodbye."

And that was that.

Xander walked forward, toward the still dying archdemon. It was time to end it.

He lifted the bow he carried to his eyes, admiring the craftsmanship one last time, and then dropped it to the ground without a further thought. He shucked off the empty quiver with a blasé shrug and vaguely heard it hit the ground behind him.

Next he pulled out his daggers, and spun them in his hands playfully, savoring their balance and feel. They had served him well, but they wouldn't be enough to stop an Archdemon, so they were dropped to the ground as well.

He knelt by the body of a dying Hurlock, and took his large sword. The rasping creature vainly reached for the blade, but Xander walked right past him, heedless. He looked at the sword, and it seemed large enough, so he nodded.

This would be the weapon that ended the Blight.

The Archdemon was very still now, save for its ragged, shallow breathing. It was exhausted and pitiful. Killing it would be almost a mercy at this point.

Xander took a moment to find a weak spot, some vulnerability, and when he found it, he lifted the sword high into the air. He said nothing, but one last thought came to him.

_Buffy would have kicked your ass._

And then the blade came down.

At first nothing happened. But then Xander was aware of light. After that came intense pain.

The Blight was over and Ferelden had lost a hero.

End Prologue


	2. Part 2, Home Again?

**Title:** A Rogue's Heart – Part 2, Chapter 1

**Author:** Wicked Raygun

**Email:** wicked_

**Summary:** For Xander Harris, the Hero of Ferelden, sacrifice is only the beginning. He ends the Blight, only to return to the home he no longer has a place in. Xander/Leliana.

**Disclaimer:** Based on characters created by Joss Whedon, and Bioware. I am merely borrowing them to put on a puppet show. Watch them dance.

**Notes:** This story is mostly a series of character pieces with sporadic action thrown in for variety. There's no real plan for this. I'll post chapters as they come to me. I'll be referring to events in the Dragon Age: Origins video game using Interludes. Chapters will actually continue the story forward.

**Spoilers:** And how! Events take place in the summer after season 3 of BTVS, moving into season 4. And all the events of Dragon Age: Origins, possibly including the various DLC are up for grabs. If you aren't familiar with Dragon Age, then lower your head in shame. Go on. Lower it.

**Distribution:** Ask and you shall receive. Just email me and I'll get back to you quickly using new-fangled technology. See, I get email on my phone now. Surely jet packs and flying cars are just around the corner.

* * *

**A Rogue's Heart  
**

**Part 2, ****Chapter 1 – Home Again?**

Death really wasn't all it was cracked up to be. At least it wasn't for Xander Harris. This was the second time he had died, after all, and once again instead of finding himself at some pearly gate, trying to fast-talk his way past security, he woke up to find himself laying facedown on a hard, cold surface.

Oh, and he was naked. Again. Oh, joy.

Xander tried to stand up, but a bout of vertigo quickly killed that idea. So instead he just tried to open his eyes and take in his surroundings. After a minute or so, he recognized something that he was pretty sure he would never see again – an empty soda can.

Okay, so he was back. He supposed that could make sense. After all, the first time he died he found himself in Ferelden. So of course after killing an archdemon – and in the process, himself – he would just wake up back in good old Sunnydale. Thanks for playing our game. You've been a lovely contestant. Don't forget to take your copy of the home game.

Focusing on his anger and not the disconnected feeling of vertigo in his head, Xander stood up on shaky legs and then leaned on a brick wall. His body protested by vomiting, which was an interesting experience since apparently his stomach was empty. After several painful dry heaves, where nothing left his mouth but some saliva, Xander started to stumble out of the alley he had woken up in.

First things first, he needed to find food, clothes, and a telephone. And not strictly in that order.

Unconsciously remembering his training, Xander tried to quietly stalk amongst the shadows. He was not entirely successful, given how weak and disoriented he was, but he managed to somehow not trip over his own two feet, so that was a victory in and of itself.

The alley lead to an intersection of other alleys. The place was relatively clean, so he guessed he was in some residential district somewhere. The thought occurred to him that he might not even be in Sunnydale, or even in Oxnard, where he had died, for that matter.

"Hello?"

Xander froze. That had been a man's voice. Urgently, Xander searched for somewhere to hide.

"Hello?" the voice called out again, not very loudly. "Listen, I know you're here. And I know you're in a bit of a pickle. I, uh, got a car. And some clothes. You know, spare clothes. That I'm not currently wearing. And I can let you borrow," the voice said lamely.

Vaguely Xander was aware of the voice having some sort of accent.

"Stupid visions," the voice muttered. "Oh, come on, pal. I know you're here. Let's just be civil and—"

The voice was cut off as Xander grabbed the man from behind, and slammed him against the wall.

"Ow! What the hell! Was that really necessary. I'm the cavalry here."

"Drop the bag," Xander said coldly. The man complied.

"Easy now, pally. No need to get violent. I was sent here."

"Oh, yeah? By who?"

"Uh, well, by the Powers. The Powers That Be."

"The who that what now?"

The man laughed nervously. "Yeah, that's just what I call 'em. Don't really know how else to explain it. The gist is I get these visions telling me to do stuff. Now generally, I try to ignore it, but this last one was a real painful mother and just wouldn't let up. Basically, I saw you kind of falling out of the sky. I'm supposed to help you. I saw that you were in the buff and decided to bring you some clothes. That's what's in the bag. It's cool. I washed 'em."

Puzzled, but not seeing anything he could lose. He told the man to stay against the wall while he retrieved the bag and went through it. He found some sweats and a faded yellow Wheezer tee-shirt, along with underwear and a pair of flip-flops. He dressed quickly.

"Are you decent? Can I turn around now?"

"Yeah," Xander said with a sigh. "Uh, sorry. It's been a weird day for me. And that's saying something."

"Don't worry about it. I've woken up naked in strange places once or twice myself. It's disorienting. The name's Doyle, by the way."

"I'm Xander. Uh, so what do we do now?"

Doyle shrugged. "You hungry?"

* * *

"So these visions, they're like dreams?"

"Oh, man, I wish. No. Nothing that pleasant. It's more like a seizure. I'll be minding my own business and then wham! It's like a barrage of images, sounds and smells – oh, man, the smell! That's the worst. Well, okay, no, the worst part is the blinding pain. But the smell's right up there."

Xander frowned, remembering his Joining. "I think I can relate."

Doyle took a swig of coffee, and after a moment asked, "So what's your story?"

"I died."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"It looks like you got better."

"That's a matter of opinion." Xander sighed. "After I graduated from High School, I decided to go on a road trip. I got as far as Oxnard before the engine of my car decided it had shamed its ancestors and committed seppuku. So after a month of doing things of which I will not speak to you about, I got enough money to fix my car and start my road trip anew."

Xander shook his head.

"I didn't even make it out of Oxnard. I hear some scuffling. I round a corner. And there's this girl being drained by a vampire. I actually managed to stake him. Yay, me. But then his buddies showed up, and suddenly things are not looking good for our hero. They work me over pretty good. And then one of them bit me, drained me. And I died.

"Now, that really should have been the end of my story, right? A completely ridiculous life ended in a moment of spectacular violence. Only, that didn't happen. I wake up in a cave – naked, it should be pointed out – except, I'm not in Kansas anymore, Toto. I'm in another world and there are no ruby slippers."

A distant look passed over Xander's face.

"Anyways, things get weird. And through some preposterous set of circumstances, I find myself killing an archdemon and dying. Yet again. Oh, and FYI – death hurts just as much the second time around. I wouldn't recommend it." Xander sighed. "Next thing I know, you and I are getting better acquainted."

There was a long silence before Doyle leaned back in his chair and said, "Wow. That's the weirdest story I ever heard that didn't start off with, 'One night, I got so drunk…'" Doyle gave Xander a pointed look. "So how long where you following the yellow brick road?"

Xander looked thoughtful. "Well, let's see. I woke up in cave, got my ass kicked, pissed off some elves, I think I spent the next three months channeling my inner eye of the tiger, then of course the mother of all hangovers, and then, I don't know, another six or so of walking around feeling like an idiot, so maybe not quite a year altogether."

"Rough."

"Yeah. So what day is it, anyway? And was Conan even close?"

"About what?"

"You know, about the year 2000," he sang in a bad falsetto.

Doyle look confused. "What are you talking about? It's still 1999."

"No, see, that's impossible. I shrugged off my mortal coil in August of '99. And then I distinctly remember lots of walking and camping."

"It's still August." Doyle made a show of looking at his watch. "For another couple of hours at least."

"Wait! Are you saying that I've only been dead here for like a week?"

"Guess so."

"What the hell?"

"Should make things easier, I suspect. You won't have to deal with the legal hassle of proving your alive."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Hey! Maybe your car's still back in Oxnard."

"If it is, it can stay there. No force on this Earth or any other is getting me back to Oxnard. I'll take the bus back to Sunnydale, thank you very much. At least I know what to expect on the stupid Hell—" Xander saw something that made his mouth drop open, and then shut tight with anger.

"Doyle, I need you to pay the check and then meet me outside."

"Uh, okay. Is something going on?"

"Just meet me outside." Xander stood up walking past a group of people who just walked in. He bumped into one of them, apologized and then walked out the diner.

Doyle didn't even bother asking for the check. He put money on the table that would have covered the bill, tip and then some. Normally, he'd be stingier, but Xander's sudden shift unnerved him, and he was pretty sure it had something to do with the folks who just walked in and sat at a table. And with that thought in mind he hurriedly went outside.

When he got outside he saw Xander opening the trunk of a car that wasn't his.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked, hissing. "This isn't your car!" Doyle immediately looked around, dreading the presence of a passing police officer.

"As a matter of fact it is my car. Doyle, this is Lucille. Lucille, Doyle," he said, cattily.

"What are you talking about?"

"Those four people who walked in are the vamps that killed me. And apparently, after doing that, they stole my car – cretins. I recognized the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man keychain. And I stole it back."

After going through the trunks contents, he finally found a gym bag that said "Sunnydale High Razorbacks." He opened it, and pulled out a red fireman's axe, which he gave to Doyle, and several stakes. He put one of the stakes in the waistband of Doyle's jeans.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Don't get excited, I don't swing that way," Xander said with a smirk.

Doyle looked exasperated. "I wasn't talking about that! We should be getting the bloody hell out of here!"

"Doyle. Look at me," Xander said in a calm, crisp, commanding tone. "Four vampires just walked into a diner. Do you think it's because they're craving for a burger?"

"Oh, god," Doyle whispered. "They're going to kill the people inside."

"Yeah. They'll probably wait a while for the crowd to thin out – less chance of a fuss that way. They'll drain the staff, and then rob the place."

Doyle swallowed loudly.

"Do you have any weapons in your car that we can use?"

"Uh, well, I, uh, keep a baseball bat under the car seat."

Xander shook his head. "That's not really going to help."

Doyle started to shake in fear. And Xander looked him up and down, sizing him up. He took the axe away from him.

"You know what? I got a better weapon for you."

* * *

Xander burst into the diner.

"Hey, anyone here driving a grey Pontiac Grand Am?"

The vampires looked at him. "Yeah?"

"I think someone's trying to steal your car."

They all got up, one of them muttering, "Unbelievable."

They walked past Xander, and then proceeded to the small parking lot behind the diner. None of them noticed, as he slipped out of his flip-flops, and proceeded to stalk them barefoot. They also didn't notice the two stakes he pulled from behind his back. The only thing they heard was a grunt, and then a yelp, and the sound of vampires falling into dust.

That left two. One of them had a scar on his lip that went down to his chin. He was only just able to see Xander as he spun away into a flanking position. The other simply stared at the spots where the remains had fallen and didn't notice Xander at all.

But he certainly felt the sharp kick to his crotch. When he doubled over, Xander took the opportunity to slam a stake through his back and into his heart, ending him.

Xander was rolling on the ground then, coming up around the vampire, trying to flank him again. No such luck. The scarred vampire saw him the whole time. He hissed and ran at Xander, trying to tackle and then overpower him. He sputtered instead, when Xander threw some dirt into his face, landing in his eyes and mouth. Blinded and enraged he screamed.

And that's when Doyle hit him with the car.

The vampire rolled onto the hood, doubling over unnaturally and breaking his legs. When Doyle hit the brakes, he was thrown off violently and hit the ground hard, rolling several times. Still unable to see, he only heard the rapid patter of running footsteps, and he was completely unaware of the stake until it pierced his heart.

The last thing he heard before his body crumbled to dust was, "Thanks for filling up the tank."

* * *

A couple hours later and Xander and Doyle were getting drinks at a pub.

"So," Doyle said, jovially, "do you think you're the first person to ever avenge their own death?"

Xander chuckled hollowly. "Given the things I've seen, probably not."

Doyle laughed at that. As insane as that scuffle with the vampires had been, he found himself feeling, well, kind of proud of himself. It wasn't something he usually experienced. Oh, sure, he had been on the sidelines tonight, but still, it felt good to think that what they did would help someone. It was a feeling of accomplishment that he hadn't felt since he was teaching. It made him smile.

Xander had told him more of his misadventures in Ferelden, including the details on how he had died, knowingly sacrificing himself to stop a Blight. If it had been him, he didn't think he could be that selfless, a thought he shared with Xander.

At the time, Xander merely smiled sadly at him and said quietly, "Yeah, I didn't think I would either. I guess you never know, until the time comes." He then began staring off in the distance, a pained look on his face. The conversation had become stiffer after that.

So finally Doyle asked.

"What was her name?"

"What?"

"Her name?"

"I'm sorry, what are we talking about?"

"It's allover your face. You're heartbroken. You left someone back there, didn't you?"

Xander paused for a long time. "Yeah. I did."

"You wanna talk about it?"

"Nothing to say. I can't go back. And as far as she's concerned, I'm dead. So even if I did go back, who knows what I'd be putting her through." Xander sighed. "Personally, I think I want to just go home, and—" Xander trailed off. "I just want to go home."

Doyle nodded solemnly and lifted his mug of beer in a toast. "To home."

Xander smiled and lifted his as well. "It's where the heart is."

And when Xander downed his drink, he couldn't help but think of a beautiful redheaded bard with a mischievous smile and a razor sharp wit.

Home, indeed.

End of Chapter 1


	3. Part 3, A Rogue Without Equal

**Title:** A Rogue's Heart – Part 3, Interlude 1

**Author:** Wicked Raygun

**Email:** wicked_

**Summary:** For Xander Harris, the Hero of Ferelden, sacrifice is only the beginning. He ends the Blight, only to return to the home he no longer has a place in. Xander/Leliana.

**Disclaimer:** Based on characters created by Joss Whedon, and Bioware. I am merely borrowing them to put on a puppet show. Watch them dance.

**Notes:** This story is mostly a series of character pieces with sporadic action thrown in for variety. There's no real plan for this. I'll post chapters as they come to me. I'll be referring to events in the Dragon Age: Origins video game using Interludes. Chapters will actually continue the story forward.

**Spoilers:** And how! Events take place in the summer after season 3 of BTVS, moving into season 4. And all the events of Dragon Age: Origins, possibly including the various DLC are up for grabs. If you aren't familiar with Dragon Age, then lower your head in shame. Go on. Lower it.

**Distribution:** Ask and you shall receive. Just email me and I'll get back to you quickly using new-fangled technology. See, I get email on my phone now. Surely jet packs and flying cars are just around the corner.

* * *

**A Rogue's Heart**

**Part 3****, Interlude 1 – A Rogue Without Equal**

Another powerful slam landed on Xander's shield, one he could feel rattle his teeth. Mustering his strength he tried to push forward, and to the side, to angle a shot from his dwarven waraxe. His opponent merely stepped back and Xander lost his balance, his full weight crashing down hard on his knee.

He looked up, panting hard, and feeling thoroughly defeated, to see a large man shaking his head.

"Well," he said at last, "at least you're lasting longer with the axe than you did with the long sword."

Xander looked at him hopefully. Was that a complement?

"Now, if only we can get the darkspawn to pause every two minutes so you can catch your breath."

No, definitely not a complement.

"I'm trying my hardest," Xander said respectfully, ignoring the insult. Bennan was only trying to help him after all.

"That is what worries me."

Xander scowled.

"Can you at least get back up to your feet and lift your shield?"

Xander stood up slowly, but without complaint. When he tried to raise his shield though, his arm trembled violently. He glared at his arm, willing it to settle down and support the shield's weight, but it would not. And though he fought it, his shield arm kept falling down.

Bennan sighed. "Get some rest. You'll be useless until tomorrow, at least."

"No," Xander said through gritted teeth, as he finally stabilized the shield more or less. "I can still do this."

Bennan slapped the shield with his hand, and it fell to the floor with a dull clang. "No. You cannot. Go and rest."

Finally Xander nodded. He bent down and picked up the shield and made his way back slowly to his sleeping bag.

Bennan was disgusted with Xander's progress. He had met farmer's daughters who took to sword and shield much faster than this one had. True it had only been a week, but he was a great judge of talent. And without any doubt, he knew that this one would never be a true warrior.

"What, in the name of the Maker, did Duncan ever see in this whelp?" he asked out loud to no one.

"Potential, I'd wager."

Bennan turned around wildly, finding the one who spoke.

"Thurik," he said, all but spitting the word out. "You should know better than to try and sneak up on me."

Thurik, the free lance assassin turned Grey Warden, simply smiled widely at him. "I apologize," he said, his tone and posture indicating that he was anything but apologetic. "Sometimes, I forgot how easy it is to startle you."

Bennan fumed, but didn't allow himself to lose his control. "What do you want, Thurik? I grow weary of your games."

"Unfortunately for you, I never do." When Bennan growled, he held his hands in the air, placating him. "Easy now. I just wanted to offer some of my wisdom."

"On what? Xander? He's mine to teach. Besides, what do you know about fighting as a warrior?"

"I know my way around a battlefield very well."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure the darkspawn find you're hiding in the shadows for danger to pass you by to be quite fearsome indeed."

Thurik bowed theatrically, taking no insult. "Can I help it, if I am not burdened by a crippling sense of honor?"

"A trait you share with the darkspawn. I'm sure you're very proud."

"Always, but we're getting off topic. Tell me, why do you train Xander to fight with a shield?"

"We're preparing for war at Ostagar. If he marches with us, he'll need to know how to use a shield, to fight in formation. And should ranks break, he'll also need to know how to melee with a shield in hand until he can form ranks again."

Thurik nodded. He expected as much. "I suppose," he said at length, "that I can understand your reasoning to having one more common rank-and-file soldier. But it would be such a waste."

"Why? Do you think it would be impossible for him to learn?" Bennan frowned. He held similar doubts himself sometimes.

"Oh, no. I'm sure he would pick it up eventually. He is both smart and very stubborn. He would turn out well enough given time. But it goes against his nature."

"What are you talking about?"

"He is not a warrior. He is a rogue."

Bennan rolled his eyes. "A common highwayman has no place on a battlefield, assassin. And no matter what you say, cowardice is not a strategy."

"Not cowardice, cunning. Only the foolish and the desperate fight a battle they know they cannot win. Battles should be fought only when every possible advantage can be exploited."

"You would have him be an archer then? If that is the case then he shouldn't even march with us. He should just enlist with King Cailan's troops and be done with it."

"Any fool can fire a longbow during a war. One simply aims up and releases. An archer that does that is barely more than a machine. However, to withhold a poisoned arrow until a significant target makes itself known? That requires the mind and skill of a rogue. And a single general felled at the right moment, is easily worth a score of soldiers if not three times that number. Rogues will have their place in this battle, I assure you."

"No, Thurik. I will not discuss this further. Duncan gave him to me to teach, and I will not turn him into whatever it is you think you are."

"You wouldn't even know how," Thurik said with a laugh.

"As you will," Bennan said, turning away to end the conversation.

"Come now, are you truly that stupid?"

Bennan brought his sword up menacingly. "Oh, yes, do say that again."

Thurik waved off his threat. "Have you not been hearing me? Have you not seen him fight with your own eyes? How he twists? How he turns? How he feints? His every instinct tells him to avoid, to deflect, to dodge, to flank. Standing there and absorbing blow after blow is counterintuitive to how he naturally fights."

Bennan frowned as he thought on Thurik's words. Yes, of course he had noticed that. How could he not? He couldn't even remember the amount of times he had told Xander to stop dancing around and simply come at him. Only now did it seem like he was successfully drilling those bad habits out of him, albeit far too slowly.

"If you continue to teach him as you have you'll eventually turn him into a fine warrior, of that I have no doubt, Bennan." Thurik's smile widened to that of a predator. "But if I were to train him, I could turn him into a rogue without equal."

Bennan had to admit, he was intrigued.

"Assuming I gave in to this madness, what would you teach him?"

"I'll visit him with a blade every night until he learns to never sleep soundly. Then I'll run him ragged every morning. He'll practice with two blades until his arms are quivering jelly. And then he'll pluck a bow every night until his fingers bleed."

Thurik laughed before continuing.

"He'll learn how to feint and dodge while engaging multiple opponents. I'll teach him to disappear in a crowd, to fade into shadows, and to silence his footfalls. He'll learn to catch a lock, to cut a purse, to trip a trap, and when to slit a throat. And poisons – oh, yes – poisons. In short, my fellow Warden, I'll see to it that he learns to kill, and kill beautifully."

Bennan narrowed his eyes. "Very well, assassin. I'll let you train him, under my supervision. And make no mistake, I'll be watching close. The lessons begin tomorrow."

"Oh, no, my good friend, you are mistaken," Thurik said with a chuckle as he removed a dagger, seemingly from the air itself. He then moved into the underbrush, quietly, fading into the shadows of the night, his footfalls mere whispers in the wind.

"The lessons begin right away."

Bennan smiled.

End of Interlude 1


	4. Part 4, Tools of the Trade

**Title:** A Rogue's Heart – Part 4, Chapter 2

**Author:** Wicked Raygun

**Summary:** For Xander Harris, the Hero of Ferelden, sacrifice is only the beginning. He ends the Blight, only to return to the home he no longer has a place in. Xander/Leliana.

**Disclaimer:** Based on characters created by Joss Whedon, and Bioware. I am merely borrowing them to put on a puppet show. Watch them dance.

**Notes:** This story is mostly a series of character pieces with sporadic action thrown in for variety. There's no real plan for this. I'll post chapters as they come to me. I'll be referring to events in the Dragon Age: Origins video game using Interludes. Chapters will actually continue the story forward.

**Spoilers:** And how! Events take place in the summer after season 3 of BTVS, moving into season 4. And all the events of Dragon Age: Origins, possibly including the various DLC are up for grabs. If you aren't familiar with Dragon Age, then lower your head in shame. Go on. Lower it.

**Distribution:** Ask and you shall receive. Just email me and I'll get back to you quickly using new-fangled technology. See, I get email on my phone now. Surely jet packs and flying cars are just around the corner.

* * *

**A Rogue's Heart**

**Part 4****, Chapter 2 – Tools of the Trade**

Xander drew back the arrow and was momentarily thrown when the modern compound bow locked the string, relieving some of the tension from his fingers. It was jolting enough that he nearly lost his grip on the arrow.

The young sales clerk next to him chuckled. "Never used one of these newer models before, have 'ya?"

"No. I trained with a traditional long bow. My, uh, dad thought it would make a man out of me."

"I hear that. When you pull 'em back enough the tension is displaced or stored or something." The clerk shrugged. "I'm not exactly sure how it works, but if you're not expecting it, it feels a little weird. Lots of folks just drop the arrow the first time."

It wasn't so bad, really, Xander thought. He'd have to retrain himself to adjust for the weird pull, but other than that he figured he'd be fine. In theory, it should be easier to hold a shot while he tracked a target. Or at least he hoped so.

He aimed, then released the arrow.

Bull's eye.

"Nice! Got it in the first one!"

"Can I try that again?"

"Yeah, sure." He handed him another arrow.

Draw. Okay, still awkward. Need to work on that. Aim. Release.

Xander smiled.

Yeah, this could work.

* * *

The sales clerk didn't even bat an eye when Xander asked to look at the knives section. Sadly, none of them were really what he was looking for. For that he was going to have to talk to Giles, he figured. Maybe the Watcher knew a guy who could give him a good deal on weapons.

When Thurik had first introduced him to a Ferelden dagger, well, he had been too petrified to really appreciate the design of the weapon. But once the weapons training had begun in earnest, Xander had found it really hard to refer to them as "daggers" with a straight face. Admittedly, his previous experience with daggers had been mostly of the sacrificial variety, he still couldn't help but feel that they were really just small swords.

But they were damn good weapons though, Xander thought with a smirk.

Designed for both piercing and slashing, small enough to be concealable, but hefty enough to defend yourself from a long sword if need be, he could have written poetry about them he had been so in love. And now he was worried that finding something similar back in this world would take some considerable doing. He might even have to commission a blacksmith, and that could cost a pretty penny.

He wasn't overly concerned about it for now though. Most of what he would fight would be vampires, and when he had no choice but to fight in close-quarters, he would be using long stakes to simulate his dueling style, so the immediate need was not dire.

Still, he really wished he could have found something.

* * *

In a crappy motel room in LA, Xander was going over everything he bought.

Six hundred dollars on a compound bow, a hundred fifty on a night-vision attachment, ninety-five on some wood shaft arrows, and another hundred dollars on some dark-colored clothing, including a nifty vest that he was sure he could outfit with stakes, crosses and holy water after a little tinkering. Sales tax not included. Not bad, he supposed. He was going back to Sunnydale broke, but at least he would have some decent gear.

How nice of those vampires to leave him a couple grand in the trunk of his car.

He could almost mourn the lack of a proper light armor, but when fighting vampires, mobility was much more important. He supposed a light bulletproof vest **might** take some of the sting from a body shot, but even that idea was limited in its usefulness. Vampires in general either went for the face, or they simply threw you around. They wanted to eat their victims, not impress them with their supernatural fighting prowess.

Oh sure, every now and again you might get a guy with some martial arts experience, but even they were usually so overconfident that they relied on the same arrogant tactics. When a vampire hit you, they expected you to stay down, which was why in retrospect he could finally understand why even inexperienced slayers could take down your average vampire without much fuss. A slayer could take whatever a vampire could dish out and come back with a smile on their face and a bad pun on their lips. That's what made Kendra and Faith so damn arrogant in the first place.

But then you had vampires like Angelus and Spike, who truly thrived on their brawling. A slayer who wasn't ready for an extended fight probably wouldn't last long. Buffy at least had spent a significant amount of her slaying "career" fighting things stronger than vampires. So she knew how to take on the tougher baddies.

And that was what made her something truly special. When the chips were down, she could rise to the occasion, shrug off the big hits and just keep coming like some sort of Buffy-sized locomotive.

And where did that leave someone like him, a normal guy without any powers? Usually passed out on the floor, humiliated and questioning his manhood.

Even before his trip down the rabbit hole, Xander knew he could throw a mean punch. After all, he had actually managed to knock vampires on their ass with a single blow, and that wasn't an easy thing. The problem was they would get back up if they weren't staked immediately. And then they would be pissed.

The bottom line was, if he didn't manage to catch a vampire by surprise and stake it quickly, he was pretty much going to die. In those situations, his strategy was generally reduced to "try not to die until Buffy gets here."

An understandable tactic, really, given the difference in strength and speed vampires naturally held over him, but it didn't really make for the character-building moments of heroism. And it certainly wasn't going to win over the ladies. When a vampire took him down, no amount of manly bellowing was ever going to make that look like anything other than pathetic.

And training to get stronger and tougher had just never worked out well. All that meant was that he could take an extra couple of shots before he collapsed in an embarrassing heap. If anything, it just led to him getting more hurt, something the gang noticed.

How does a guy explain that the reason he was more beat up than the rest of them was because he was actually getting stronger? No, seriously, how does someone say that and not sound like a delusional moron?

So he said nothing, and the gang just worried about him.

In retrospect though, they were right. He was getting hurt too much and he never allowed himself to realize why. He kept trying to fight like Buffy. And that was stupid because he was never going to be Buffy. Fray adjacent was a good place to be. He just needed to learn the skills to make fray adjacent deadly.

He kind of wished he had figured that out before he actually died.

But then he never would have met Leliana, would he?

Xander's hands started shaking.

_Damn it, not now. Just, not now. Can't I get through__ just one damn day without thinking about how I'm never going to see her again?_

The stunning realization hit Xander hard. He sat down on the bed slowly, his body shaking a little bit. It was going to happen sooner or later, he realized. So it might as well be now.

The tears fell.

**End of Chapter 2**


	5. Part 5, The Grey Fox

**Title:** A Rogue's Heart – Part 5, Interlude 2

**Author:** Wicked Raygun

**Summary:** For Xander Harris, the Hero of Ferelden, sacrifice is only the beginning. He ends the Blight, only to return to the home he no longer has a place in. Xander/Leliana.

**Disclaimer:** Based on characters created by Joss Whedon, and Bioware. I am merely borrowing them to put on a puppet show. Watch them dance.

**Notes:** This story is mostly a series of character pieces with sporadic action thrown in for variety. There's no real plan for this. I'll post chapters as they come to me. I'll be referring to events in the Dragon Age: Origins video game using Interludes. Chapters will actually continue the story forward.

**Spoilers:** And how! Events take place in the summer after season 3 of BTVS, moving into season 4. And all the events of Dragon Age: Origins, possibly including the various DLC are up for grabs. If you aren't familiar with Dragon Age, then lower your head in shame. Go on. Lower it.

**Distribution:** Ask and you shall receive. Just email me and I'll get back to you quickly using new-fangled technology. See, I get email on my phone now. Surely jet packs and flying cars are just around the corner.

* * *

**A Rogue's Heart**

**Part ****5, Interlude 2 – The Grey Fox  
**

"This is an extremely foolish idea," Leliana said in her soft Orlesian accent. It was remarkable how adorable he found it.

"Oh, come on, Lee, think of the fun," Xander said back to her.

Leliana scowled at him. She really did not like that nickname. Or if she did, she was hiding it very well. "I do not trust this Slim man."

"When has Slim ever let us down?"

"You mean other than the last time?"

"Hey, that wasn't his fault! And, besides, he gave us a refund on the tip."

"Yes. That made up for the bruises." Leliana sighed. "How did I let you talk me into this again?"

"I'm not sure. But I think it's because you let me do that thing where I nibble on your neck and you start speaking Orlesian."

Leliana blushed, but wasn't about to be showed up. "You'll pay for that, you know. There will be consequences."

Xander turned back to look her in the eye, a mischievous look on his face. "Promise?"

Behind them they heard a deep, throaty chuckle. "Have I mentioned lately that the two of you make an enchanting and entertaining couple?"

"Don't encourage him, Zevran."

"I apologize, fair lady. From now on I'll merely sit back quietly and enjoy the view," he said luridly.

Leliana rolled her eyes and continued speaking to Xander. "But you do know this has to be a trap."

"Of course, it's a trap. But since we know that already, we'll be fine."

Leliana somehow managed to resist the urge to smack the back of his head. "And how do you figure that?"

"Look, all we got to do, is ninja our way in, get the Tears of Andraste, and then ninja our way out."

"What is a ninja?" Zevran asked.

"I'll explain later. What I meant is all we have to do is sneak in and be stealthy."

"There could be a hundred guards for all we know."

"Maybe more," Xander said with a smirk.

"Oh, that is it," Leliana said, frustrated. "We are leaving. Now!"

"Okay."

"What?" Leliana asked, caught off-guard.

"If that's how you feel about it, we'll just leave. No harm. No foul."

"Well, good. It is good that you are finally listening to reason."

"Still, it's kind of a shame though. The actual Tears of Andraste, a gift from the Maker, just wasting away in someone's private collection, when it could be returned to the people."

Leliana scowled at him. "Do not mock my faith, Xander."

"I'm not mocking your faith. I'm taking advantage of it. Big difference."

"Why do you even care about this? You're a Grey Warden. We're supposed to be getting ready for battle in a few days."

Xander's face sobered, losing any trace of amusement. "Leliana, I'm doing this because I'm a Grey Warden, and because we'll be going into battle in a few days."

Leliana and Zevran both looked to him with confusion on their faces.

"Think about it. We get the Tears and leave it in a donation box of the Chantry. The news will spread that the Tears were recovered, right before the final battle with the Darkspawn. It'll be viewed as a miracle. Can you imagine what that'll do for morale?"

"Xander," Leliana said softly, "it's a lovely idea. Really. But we can't manipulate people like that."

"A Grey Warden does what they have to in order to defeat the Darkspawn." He grabbed Leliana's hand and looked into her eyes. "And this is how we'll do it, by giving them something to fight for, something to believe in. Hope is powerful, and that's what we'll be stealing back. So are you guys in?"

"Ensuing victory through thievery. I like it. Count me in." Zevran said.

Leliana looked Xander in the eyes and smiled coyly. "Where you lead, I follow."

Xander smiled playfully. "Promise?"

* * *

"How did I let you talk me into this?"

"You know, I'm not really sure," Xander answered Leliana, and then ducked under the swing of a lumbering Golem.

They must have sneaked past at least fifty or sixty guards that night. And not a single one had noted their passing. No one had been killed or even knocked out. So when they had finally reached the hidden chamber that kept the Tears of Andraste, Xander was understandably cocky.

In retrospect he should have carefully checked the room for traps, but he had never been as good at that as Leliana or even Zevran were. Oh, he could deactivate a trap without really thinking about it, but spotting them had never been his forte.

In his defense though, the trap was obviously magical in nature, and was apparently hidden by an illusion. What else could possibly activate a Golem of all things?

And this was possibly besides the point, but seriously what kind of maniac kept four Golems in a single room, anyway?

So far only one had been activated. And thankfully it was ignoring Leliana and Zevran completely. Xander hoped it was because it had been him who tripped the floor plate in the first place, because if it was then he had an idea – a really reckless and stupid idea, but an idea nonetheless.

"Leliana, grab the Tears and get out of here. I know how to handle Rocky."

"Are you insane? We're not leaving you!"

"You have to ask? Of course, I'm insane. But do it anyway. I got an idea!" Xander's voice raised as he suddenly had to dodge another punch from the Golem. If even one of those connected, he was toothpaste.

"Uh, not to doubt you, fearless leader, but the lady does have a point. We cannot simply abandon you here."

Xander chanced a moment to look at Zevran skeptically. "Aren't you still trying to kill me?"

"Well, not today," Zevran said back to him almost sheepishly.

"Xander, we need to run. We cannot defeat this thing." As she said those words, Leliana stared at her bow doubtfully. She had fired several shots already, a few of them connecting with its head, and so far had failed to even get the Golem's attention let alone hurt it. While Zevran merely stood next to her, shaking his head as his gaze alternated between the Golem and his blades.

"We'll run just as soon as someone grabs the Tears!" Xander ducked again. The last punch had been far too close.

"Fine then, I'll get it," Zevran said as he put away his sword and dagger. He crept as quietly as he could, mindful not to trip the other floor plates scattered around the room, and simultaneously keeping an eye on Xander's dance around the Golem.

He reached a chest, only to find it locked. Sighing, he pulled out his lock-picking tools and undid the rather simple lock. With a bottle of what he assumed must be the Tears of Andraste tucked in a satchel, Zevran made his way back to Leliana's side, who had finally put away her bow having realized the futility of the weapon against a Golem.

"Xander, Zevran's got it!"

He spared a quick glance at them, and then started to backpedal, leading the Golem across a particular section of the room. It took some finessing, but eventually the Golem stepped on one of the other floor plates.

"Was that your plan?"

Xander shrugged at Leliana before darting through the Golem's legs.

The second Golem came to life, but instead of going after Xander it went after the first. And soon the room was filled with the cacophony of shattering rock as the two Golems mindlessly slammed punch after punch into each other.

_Very stealthy_, Xander thought with a sigh.

When he was back with Leliana and Zevran, a breathless Xander said, "Let's not mention this to Shale – like ever."

The others nodded solemnly.

As they snuck out of the hidden room, they were relieved to find that no guards had been alerted to their presence, and once they fully came into the wine cellar they understood why. Some sort of magic must have been at work to keep sound from passing through. Because they could still see the Golems going at it, but could no longer hear them.

Feeling relieved, they decided to take the time to reset the hidden entrance, leaving it as they found it.

"Alright, guys, time to get out of here. Let's keep it quiet."

* * *

The following morning an initiate was making her rounds, checking the donation box at the front of the chantry. Sometimes a noble would drop in some coin to alleviate their guilt after a night of drinking and whoring. So she was rather surprised to find instead a bottle of some liquid and a note. She read the note first.

_**To the Chantry,**_

_**I make this donation of the Tears of Andraste in the hopes that it will save the souls of the people of Denerim. May it forever be remembered that hope can always be found when it is looked for.**_

_**Long live Denerim and long live good King Alistair.**_

_**May the Maker watch over us all in these dark times.**_

_**Sincerely,**_

_**The Grey Fox**_

Thankfully, the initiate wasn't holding the bottle when she fainted.

**End of Interlude 2**


	6. Part 6, Souvenirs

**Title:** A Rogue's Heart – Part 6, Chapter 3

**Author:** Wicked Raygun

**Summary:** For Xander Harris, the Hero of Ferelden, sacrifice is only the beginning. He ends the Blight, only to return to the home he no longer has a place in. Xander/Leliana.

**Disclaimer:** Based on characters created by Joss Whedon, and Bioware. I am merely borrowing them to put on a puppet show. Watch them dance.

**Notes:** This story is mostly a series of character pieces with sporadic action thrown in for variety. There's no real plan for this. I'll post chapters as they come to me. I'll be referring to events in the Dragon Age: Origins video game using Interludes. Chapters will actually continue the story forward.

**Spoilers:** And how! Events take place in the summer after season 3 of BTVS, moving into season 4. And all the events of Dragon Age: Origins, possibly including the various DLC are up for grabs. If you aren't familiar with Dragon Age, then lower your head in shame. Go on. Lower it.

**Distribution:** Ask and you shall receive. Just email me and I'll get back to you quickly using new-fangled technology. See, I get email on my phone now. Surely jet packs and flying cars are just around the corner.

* * *

**A Rogue's Heart**

**Part 6****, Chapter 3 – Souvenirs**

The Darkspawn surrounded him on all sides. They hissed and screamed at him, demanding his flesh, demanding his blood. It always came back to blood, didn't it?

There was a brief moment of stillness. And then they attacked.

Xander ducked, dodged, stabbed, and sliced. He used all his tricks to stay alive, and to make them pay. They wanted his blood? Fine. But he was going to spill as much of theirs as possible.

He was righteous fury and blinding rage, and they all deserved to die. He smiled. _Yes, they all must die!_

The Change came the same way it always did. Suddenly he would notice the taste of pennies in his mouth. Then things slowed down. All the sounds merged to a single high-pitched ringing. And finally the colors of everything faded away until the only colors he saw were white and shades of dull purple. Xander didn't notice the strange purple smoke coming from his eyes, but then he never had. He had only been told about it secondhand.

But the Darkspawn, they saw it, and for one brief moment, they knew fear again. But then the Taint in their blood demanded carnage, and they came back at him.

If his attacks were passionate fury before they were cold savagery now. Eyes were stabbed, limbs were lopped off, throats were slit, and the tainted blood spilled and spilled. And not all of it was theirs.

But caught in the Change, he didn't care, couldn't care – would not care.

Blood. Stab.

Blood. Crunch.

Blood. Break.

Blood! _Kill!_

The Change was fueling him, making him stronger, faster – deadlier – just like it always did. But just like every time he fell into the Change, it went a little farther, lasted a little longer.

Made him a little hungrier.

Blood! Smash!

Blood! Crush!

Blood! _Feed!_

The Darkspawn were pathetic. They were weak. They were food.

Xander dropped his blades, his hands having long turned into claws, he no longer needed them. And then he continued killing, until he finally noticed a weakened genlock on the ground, whimpering in pain. The rest of the Darkspawn started to fall back in fear, stumbling over one another, trying to get away.

With a single hand, Xander lifted the genlock by its rusted, jagged armor, his tiny feet, unable to reach the ground, kicked furiously. It did not want to die. He looked into its putrid yellow eyes, savoring the scent of its fear. Xander could not see the ridges on his forehead, or the fangs in his mouth, but he knew they were there.

And then Xander brought its neck to his lips and drank.

Moments later, the genlock's lifeless husk fell to the ground with a thump. Xander moved, faster than ever, and grabbed a Hurlock that was trying to flee. He fed on him as well. Then another. And another. And another.

It was never enough. His hunger would not be sated. So he fed on another.

But then Xander saw her. No, that was not true. He **felt** her, and then saw her. Leliana looked so scared, so pathetic. He would fix that.

"Xander, please. Don't do this. I love you," she begged in a whispering voice.

When he touched her face, gently, lovingly, she whimpered. When he brought her close to him, in a lover's embrace, she trembled. And when he waited a moment to take in her scent, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, she cried.

His lips, ever so softly, danced across her neck, the same way he had done a hundred times before. And then he bit into her skin and drank. She struggled for just a moment, and then gave in.

After all, where he led, she would follow. She had promised him.

Xander, still feeding, opened his eyes when he heard a familiar laugh. Morrigan stood there, laughing and smiling in a lusty, playful way. His eyes roamed across her body, drinking her in, taking in every detail of her body, including one new feature.

She was pregnant.

One hand lovingly stroked her belly as the other came up to her face. As a single finger extended from her hand, she gave it a pouty little kiss, mimicking a shushing motion.

"Our little secret," Morrigan said in a teasing, sing-song voice.

Leliana's body slowly slid down his, until she landed on her knees. Her eyes opened slowly, seeming hazy and unfocused, and looked up at him.

"Now. Please."

A single clawed finger scraped across his wrist, drawing his tainted blood. He lowered his bleeding hand toward her, and Leliana turned her head to catch it and began to drink deeply. She looked so beautiful.

When she finished, he lowered her to the ground gently. Then he looked up to find Morrigan surrounded by vampires with glowing, purple eyes.

Morrigan smiled at him. And then her face changed.

* * *

When Xander awoke, his heart was pounding so hard he swore he could feel it slamming into his ribcage. The sheets, the pillow and his clothes were drenched in sweat, his skin cold and clammy. He shifted to the side and brought his feet onto the carpet, sitting on the edge of the cheap, lumpy mattress.

He took a moment, trying to hold onto the already fading images of his dream. He could remember fighting Darkspawn, and then something about Leliana asking him to do something. It didn't make any sense. He tried to remember again and a brief image came to mind: a pregnant Morrigan.

Xander shivered, remembering that night she had come to him with her "offer". That had easily been one of the creepiest moments of his life. And considering what he went through in High School that was saying quite a bit.

And the sad part was that he hadn't even been surprised, or even angry for that matter. No. He was just disappointed.

He never held any illusions about her, never once believed that her actions were anything but purely self-motivated. But there had been times, when he saw her mask slip, when no one else seemed to be paying attention, when he saw the scared little girl beneath the brash, arrogant woman.

Truth be told, she reminded him of Faith. So much so, in fact, that at one time he even toyed with the idea of telling her about the Slayer who lost herself to her own rage. But he never did. Maybe that was a mistake. He didn't know. But when he thought about it, he was just so sure that she wouldn't take Faith's story to heart.

Morrigan did not want to be saved, and worse, she would have been insulted by the implication that she needed to be.

Just like Faith.

Her mask had slipped that night as well, allowing her to glimpse her fear. But had it been fear for him, or for herself? Even now, he wasn't sure. Not that it mattered much. What she wanted, he would not give her, even if her goals had been purely selfless. And they so obviously were not.

So he told her no, and she ran away.

Xander rubbed his face and sighed. Creepy dreams about Darkspawn and witches who wanted to carry his baby. Yeah, this was a souvenir he wanted to keep.

Still bleary-eyed and uncoordinated, he stumbled into the bathroom. He turned on the sink and splashed his face several times with water before looking into the mirror.

His eyes were red, but that was to be expected given that he just cried until he passed out. His face still sported the little goatee Leliana had left him on the morning of the final battle. And his hair hung to almost his shoulder, the same length he had in Ferelden, where getting a hair cut had been a luxury he never bothered to afford. Of course, a week ago in this world, his hair had been no where near this long.

Curious now, he began to check himself over. He found the scar on the knuckles of his left hand, where a genlock's mace had landed a glancing blow, breaking several fingers. Wynne healed it well enough, but it had scarred anyway.

On his right side he found the scar where some acid had slipped past his armor and eaten into his skin. It wasn't until the battle had been over that he noticed the pain. It had been a potent acid, and they had nothing to neutralize it with, so in the end they simply put a stick in his mouth as Alistair sliced the burning flesh off with a dagger. Afterwards Morrigan cauterized it. It left a rather shocking scar.

And on his stomach were three faded lines where a vampire had sliced him with its claws during his senior year.

This was his body. The body that died in Oxnard, and the one that died in Denerim. He sighed. The same body that drank from that stupid cup during his Joining.

And all of that meant one thing. The Taint still flowed through his veins, killing him slowly.

Twenty years, give or take. That's what he had left, assuming a demon or vampire didn't get him first. If he was lucky, he would live to see forty.

Xander didn't want to think anymore. So he busied himself with the mundane. He showered, brushed his teeth, and trimmed his new goatee, deciding to leave it. He then got dressed, put his things back into his car and checked out of the motel.

If his days were truly numbered, then he wanted to spend it at home with his family. It was time he went back to Sunnydale.

Home, sweet Hellmouth.

**End of Chapter 3**


	7. Part 7, Drinking the KoolAid

**Title:** A Rogue's Heart – Part 7, Interlude 3

**Author:** Wicked Raygun

**Summary:** For Xander Harris, the Hero of Ferelden, sacrifice is only the beginning. He ends the Blight, only to return to the home he no longer has a place in. Xander/Leliana.

**Disclaimer:** Based on characters created by Joss Whedon, and Bioware. I am merely borrowing them to put on a puppet show. Watch them dance.

**Notes:** This story is mostly a series of character pieces with sporadic action thrown in for variety. There's no real plan for this. I'll post chapters as they come to me. I'll be referring to events in the Dragon Age: Origins video game using Interludes. Chapters will actually continue the story forward.

**Spoilers:** And how! Events take place in the summer after season 3 of BTVS, moving into season 4. And all the events of Dragon Age: Origins, possibly including the various DLC are up for grabs. If you aren't familiar with Dragon Age, then lower your head in shame. Go on. Lower it.

**Distribution:** Ask and you shall receive. Just email me and I'll get back to you quickly using new-fangled technology. See, I get email on my phone now. Surely jet packs and flying cars are just around the corner.

* * *

**A Rogue's Heart**

**Part ****7, Interlude 3 – Drinking the Kool-Aid**

Xander had been listening to Daveth and Jory argue back and fourth about the necessity of the ritual. Daveth's view was that any sacrifice would be worth stopping the Darkspawn, while Jory thought that drinking Darkspawn blood would be too high a price to pay.

As for himself, Xander was somewhere in the middle.

When he first encountered a Darkspawn, he pretty much did the same mental math that he had done for vampires. They were evil, and they deserved to die. There wasn't any grey there. The only real difference is that at least the vamps back home never bothered to organize an army. Oh, sure, the dumber ones might pull the standard evil henchmen crap, but so far they weren't marching on Sunnydale in matching uniforms.

Xander shuddered at that thought, catching the attention of the other two Warden recruits.

"Sorry. Bad mental place."

They both gave him strange looks before returning to their argument. Xander sighed, and continued his train of thought.

_So Darkspawn equals bad_, he thought, _and they need to be stopped_. He understood that. That was perfectly fine with him. He was totally onboard the slay-the-Darkspawn train. But just like Jory, he had to admit to being creeped out by the whole concept of drinking their blood.

And it wasn't just the gross factor either; although, he had to admit that was a big part. No, it was the actual necessity behind it. Alistair had said something about Grey Wardens being able to sense the Darkspawn.

_Well, so what? Who the hell needed to sense them? They__'re right over there_, Xander thought as he turned his head toward the bridge and looked past it to Ostagar and the lines of fire that indicated the Darkspawn's approach. Having Darkspawn spidey-senses wasn't really going to help much, when you were surrounded on all sides by the suckers.

So why the necessity? What the hell was so important that Duncan absolutely needed fresh recruits right now? Sure, if it was peace time, he could understand. Sensing Darkspawn might be the only way to prepare for a Blight, but right here and right now, what was the need?

There was something more going on here. Xander just knew it. So when push came to shove, that was why he was going to drink the Evil Kool-Aid.

Xander stood up then, and made his way to Jory who looked liked he was just about to punch Daveth. He put his hand on the guy's shoulder. Immediately Jory looked over to him.

"I'm sure it won't be so bad," he said. A blatant lie, but maybe a necessary one. "I'll even go first, if you want."

Jory looked like he was about to object again, when Duncan and Alistair finally showed up. It was then, that he made a point of stepping forward, in front of Daveth and Jory. If he was going to do this, then he wanted to get it over with.

"It is time," Duncan said. "We only say a few words, but since the first, these words have been spoken at the ceremony."

Then Alistair, looking somber, said, "Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows, where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that, one day, we shall join you."

"Xander, step forward."

At Duncan's request, he did just that, walking up to them. While doing so he had a brief feeling of déjà vu. He suddenly felt like he was back in church, about to take his communion. And with the beard, Duncan almost kind of looked like Father Abernathy.

He took the cup from Alistair's hands, and stared into its contents for a moment. All those nights patrolling with Buffy, fighting the undead, and he may very well be killed by the stuff floating in this cup.

_Blood. Why do these things always have to involve blood? It's like a ritual can't __even call itself a ritual without the red stuff popping up somewhere._

Xander took one last deep breath, put the chalice to his lips, and drank.

Afterwards, he handed the cup back to Alistair. The whole thing felt anticlimactic. Was something supposed to happen?

And then Xander felt a stab of pain in his stomach. And then another. When the third one came, it was accompanied by an even worse pain in his head. His hands went to his temples.

Another stab, but this time it felt like it came from everywhere. He screamed and fell to his knees.

"I am sorry, Xander," Duncan said, quietly.

Xander had just enough time to look up into Duncan's eyes, before the stabbing pain came back. But this time, it did not go away. It felt like every inch of his body was being ripped to shreds and lit on fire.

He burned. Everything burned. The pain never lessened, never dulled, never stopped. It just got worse and worse. God, why wouldn't it stop!

Alistair turned to Duncan, and yelled over Xander's screams, "Duncan! What's happening?"

"I don't know!" Duncan had attended dozens of joining ceremonies and had heard of many others, but he had never seen or heard of such a thing. When a recruit's body rejected the Taint, they usually died within seconds. This was something else entirely.

Xander convulsed even harder and kept screaming.

Alistair set his jaw and pulled out a small dagger that he kept on his belt. "We should just end it! Make it quick!" He moved to do just that, but was stopped by Duncan, who grabbed his head.

"No, Alistair! No matter what happens, we must let this play through to the end!"

"Are you bloody mad?" Ser Jory yelled. "End it. End it now!" He had liked Xander, and even if he hadn't, no one deserved this.

When they didn't move, Jory drew his sword. "Then I'll end it!"

Duncan drew a dagger a split-second after. "No! You will not interrupt his sacrifice! It is not our way!" He stepped toward Jory, to show he was serious.

"This is wrong," Jory said, pleading with them as he backed away. "I'll not take part in this!"

"Put your weapon away. It is too late." Duncan moved forward again.

"No!"

Feeling threatened, Jory brought his sword across in a swipe. Duncan parried, stepped in toward Jory and stabbed him in the gut.

"I am sorry," he said, whispering into his ear, as Jory's lifeless body slid slowly to the ground. When he had finished cleaning and sheathing his dagger, Xander's screams suddenly stopped.

Duncan turned toward him, expecting to find Xander's corpse. Instead, he saw that he was still on his knees. He came around and noticed all the veins on his face were a strange purple color.

But it was his eyes that really drew his attention. They were changing color, but they weren't clouding over into a milky white color like those of recruits normally did. They were turning into a strange bluish, purple color.

And then something flared in his eyes. They just seemed to glow for a second, and suddenly a strange dull purple smoke began to somehow emanate from them.

"Maker's breath," Alistair said quietly.

After a few moments the purple smoke stopped, and his eyes whitened over. Xander groaned, and then collapsed onto the ground.

Duncan took the chalice from Alistair's hands. "Check him."

With a nod, Alistair went to Xander. He removed the gauntlet from his hand, and checked for his pulse.

"He's alive," he said, at length. "Albeit barely."

Duncan nodded, and then swiftly turned to the final recruit, who was shaking and pale.

"Daveth, step forward."

* * *

Alistair watched Duncan as he added a drop of the blood from the chalice into a small amulet. Every Warden carried a similar amulet. It was a keepsake, a reminder of those who already paid the ultimate price. He turned his head to Xander who was unconscious but still alive.

"Is it true, what the other Warden's say? Does he really come from another world?"

"He claims so. I see no reason why he would lie."

"But how is that possible?"

"I don't know, and neither does he. He says he died in his world, and woke up here."

"Is he a mage of some sort? An apostate, maybe?"

Duncan looked at him then, his face curious. "If he is, he hides it very well."

"I don't know, it seems like the glowing eyes might be a dead giveaway," Alistair said, sarcasm lacing his voice.

"What is really bothering you, Alistair?"

"You mean other than the obvious?"

"Yes."

"What happened at his joining – that wasn't natural."

"You'll find that there is very little about the Joining that is natural. But I'll agree that it was unusual."

"Unusual? Is that how we classify purple smoke coming out of his eyes?"

"What else would you call it?"

"An abomination."

"I truly do not believe he is a mage."

"Perhaps he wasn't trained as one then. But he could still be possessed by a demon."

"Blood mages have been inducted into the order before. And none of them have ever reacted like that. No, what we saw had nothing to do with blood magic. A result, perhaps, of him not being from this world, or perhaps something else entirely, but not blood magic."

Alistair stared at Xander for a long moment, before finally asking what he had been leading up to.

"Is he even human?" he asked quietly.

Duncan hesitated before speaking. "He is a Grey Warden. That is all that matters."

**End of Interlude 3**

**

* * *

**

**Author's Note:** Sorry this took so long. I had to scrap the original version of this interlude, since it led me right into a brick wall. Plus it made Xander come off as too OOC.

This chapter was important though, since I wanted to show why someone like Xander who is so clearly anti-vampire, would ever consider drinking darkspawn blood. Plus I'd like to think that he'd stand up for Jory if events played out exactly as they did in the game, so I had to write around that too.

Oh, and to the guy or gal who left me that joke review about the Grey Fox, thank you so much. I'm glad I wasn't the only person who noticed that. Plus after your review I laughed for like ten minutes.


	8. Part 8, My Summer Vacation

**Title:** A Rogue's Heart – Part 8, Chapter 4

**Author:** Wicked Raygun

**Summary:** For Xander Harris, the Hero of Ferelden, sacrifice is only the beginning. He ends the Blight, only to return to the home he no longer has a place in. Xander/Leliana.

**Disclaimer:** Based on characters created by Joss Whedon, and Bioware. I am merely borrowing them to put on a puppet show. Watch them dance.

**Notes:** This story is mostly a series of character pieces with sporadic action thrown in for variety. There's no real plan for this. I'll post chapters as they come to me. I'll be referring to events in the Dragon Age: Origins video game using Interludes. Chapters will actually continue the story forward.

**Spoilers:** And how! Events take place in the summer after season 3 of BTVS, moving into season 4. And all the events of Dragon Age: Origins, possibly including the various DLC are up for grabs. If you aren't familiar with Dragon Age, then lower your head in shame. Go on. Lower it.

**Distribution:** Ask and you shall receive. Just email me and I'll get back to you quickly using new-fangled technology. See, I get email on my phone now. Surely jet packs and flying cars are just around the corner.

* * *

**A Rogue's Heart**

**Part 8****, Chapter 4 – My Summer Vacation**

* * *

Giles was panicking. How could he not be? He just got a phone call from Olivia, saying she would be in California for a couple of weeks, and she wanted to know if she could stay with him. And he could be mistaken, but that tone in her voice when she asked – well, perhaps he was reading something into it that wasn't there. But if he wasn't, then it was likely to be a very enjoyable few weeks indeed.

They had dated back in England, of course. But then he had been chosen to become Buffy's Watcher and was forced to end it. Part of him wanted to continue their relationship, even with the distance, but everything about them had been so new back then, and they were both mature enough to know that would have been folly. Still, they had ended things on relatively good terms.

And now she was coming here – in two days. Good Lord, there was so much to do!

He wiped a bead of sweat from his brow and continued applying the cleanser onto the stove top. How on Earth did the bloody thing get so dirty in the first place? He rarely used it for anything other than tea and instant soup.

And that brought to mind the issue of food, in that, he didn't have any. That meant that a trip to the market was in order, and he hated that sort of thing. Giles sighed. Even he was painfully aware that he was such a bachelor.

The doorbell rang.

Giles cursed and started washing his hands, trying to take off the remnants of the powerfully smelling cleanser that he was now fairly sure shouldn't get on the skin in the first place, if that slight burning sensation was any sort of clue.

The doorbell rang again.

"Yes, yes, just a moment!" he shouted back. He hurriedly dried his hands and made it to his door. If this was that damned land lady again, he could not be held responsible for his actions. Miserable shrew should learn to mind her own business.

He opened the front door and found a tall man with dark hair, a goatee, and a large ear-to-ear smile plastered on his face.

"Yes, can I help – Xander?"

Xander said nothing. But it seemed that somehow his smile got even bigger.

"Uh, is something wrong?"

Xander just kept smiling.

Giles noticed something. "Are you – are you crying?"

Xander laughed with a shaky voice. "No, no. I'm good. I just – it's really good to see you." His voice started to crack at the last word.

Giles motioned for him to come inside. After Xander walked in, he closed the door.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, I'm fine. There's nothing – okay that's a big fat lie. There's a lot wrong, but I don't care about that right now." Xander took a deep breath before he continued.

"Giles, you are never going to guess what I did on my summer vacation."

* * *

Giles knocked back the glass of expensive brandy, welcoming the warm burn in his throat and stomach. He had been saving it for a special occasion, but since he didn't really have any other alcohol in the house this would have to do.

"Uh, Giles?"

Giles held up a finger, motioning Xander to give him a moment. He poured himself another glass, and downed that as well.

"Okay, this impression of my dad is real impressive and everything, but I was kind of hoping that I could talk to you sober."

Giles took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. And then finally, he spoke.

"You died."

It wasn't a question, but Xander treated it as one. "Yeah. But I got better."

Giles glared at him and poured himself another drink. Instead of downing this one, he returned to his chair, and sat down.

"You died," he said quietly to himself.

"You're not getting past that anytime soon are you?"

"Damn it, Xander! Can't you take this seriously?"

Giles could not believe Xander was being so blasé about this. He had died. Didn't he understand what that meant? They had lost him, for however brief a time. Giles leaned his head back on the cushioned chair.

It was just like what happened with the Master. Only this time, there was no warning. A random vampire attack and he had simply died. He hadn't even been in Sunnydale at the time. How much time would have passed before they even knew that something had gone wrong?

Xander stared at him, taking in his distress.

"It's a lot to take in. I get it," Xander said calmly. "But believe me, I took it very seriously." His voice dropped low, a note of pain in every word. He shook his head. "I didn't think I'd get to see you guys again."

Giles took a moment to compose himself. "So, you died, and then went to some other dimension? Was it some sort of hell dimension?"

"Not exactly. It was a place called Thedas. It was kind of nice, except for the rampaging evil and rampant social injustice – kind of like L.A., I guess."

"Thedas?" Giles looked thoughtful. "No, I can't say it rings any bells. And the few books I have on other dimensions tend to focus on hells, seeing as how those worlds are the most likely to breach the divide. Can you tell me more about this Thedas?"

"Sure, I can give you the dime tour. But you're going to have to realize that a lot of what I'm going to say is pretty, well, out there, even for us. Remember that rampaging evil, I mentioned? You ever heard of something called Darkspawn?"

Giles searched his memory, but couldn't find anything. "Can't say that I have, at least, not by name."

"Genlocks? Hurlocks?"

Again Giles shook his head, but then he reached for a pad and pen and started to write things down.

Xander sighed. This next part, likely wouldn't go over well. "Okay, how about elves and dwarves?"

Giles gave him a look. "There are no such beings in this world, outside of Tolkien books anyway. Some theories suggest that these legends may have been inspired by various demonic entities. For example, there are many types of subterranean demons, any one of which could have inspired the idea for dwarves. And traditionally elves are seen as pranksters. In pre-Tolkien stories they generally range from being merely mischievous, to being outright evil. Again, any number of demons could have inspired that."

"You keep mentioning Tolkien. That's the 'Lord of the Rings' guy, right? What's he got to do with this?"

"Well, the modern concept of elves is primarily due to Tolkien. Before that they were basically depicted as fairies – wings and all."

"Like Tinkerbell?"

Giles sighed. "Yes, like Tinkerbell."

"Okay, well Thedas has actual elves. And, no, they don't got wings."

Giles blinked a few times, and then sipped his brandy. "I suppose we could look into it. Elves, amazing," he said, scoffing at the absurdity of the whole notion.

"I don't think researching elves is a top priority here. I'm really more concerned about my Quantum Leaping every time I die. I really want to know how that keeps happening."

"Dimensional magic is really not my forte, Xander. I can look a few things up, possibly call in a few markers from people I know back at the Council, but I can't say I've heard of anything even remotely resembling what you went through. As far as I understand it, when someone or something gets pulled into another world, it happens on a physical level. A portal opens up, and one steps through to the other side, not unlike a door.

"Now, what you went through was more of an ascension. You cast aside your mortal shell, only to wake up with a new one somewhere else. It's remarkable, and possibly unprecedented. I'm not sure we'll ever know more than that."

Xander's head lowered slightly, avoiding Giles gaze. "Oh."

Giles noticed his shift in mood. "Are you disappointed?" Before Xander could answer, Giles asked him, "Oh, bloody hell, you're not trying to go back, are you?"

Xander's eyes widened. "What? Me? Back? Why would you ask—" Xander sighed, before answering seriously. "I don't know. Maybe."

"What could possibly make you want to go back?" Realization hit, and Giles rolled his eyes. "There's a girl," he said frustrated, right before knocking back the rest of the brandy.

Xander shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, it's not just that," he said, in a guilty tone. "I, uh, have something to tell you. And it's a doozy."

"What more could you possibly say that could surprise me?"

Xander winced. "You might wanna grab more liquor."

It was at that point that Xander went through the whole concept of Grey Wardens, including the part about the Joining.

Thankfully, a beautifully timed phone call from Giles' landlady, complaining about the noise, got him to stop yelling about how reckless and irresponsible he was.

* * *

Xander watched as Giles furiously went through his books looking up everything he had told him about Thedas, the Wardens, and Darkspawn, which in retrospect wasn't a whole lot really.

On the subject of Darkspawn alone, Grey Wardens knew very little. A lot of the lore was myth or merely speculation. Who knew how much was actually true. Even how they reproduced wasn't really a documented fact.

Yes, Xander had fought a Brood Mother – or at least what Hespith had called a Brood Mother – but who was to say that's how they really spawned each other? Alistair had never heard of the expression before, and Hespith was all pumped-up on crazy juice when they found her. Hell, she had been down there for years, plenty of time to make up creepy, nonsensical poetry.

Once again, Xander wished he had the ability to line up all the Grey Wardens in a row so he could pimp-slap the lot of them upside the head in one go.

Secrets. Always secrets.

It was the entire reason Loghain was able to get as far as he did with his extremely badly-timed rebellion. Everyone may have respected the Wardens in Ferelden, but very few actually trusted them. All it took was the right paranoid freak at the wrong time and with just enough political ambition, and presto! Everybody's screwed!

Xander sighed as he turned a yellow page on a very old book written in what Giles had assured him was some form of Hebrew. He was supposed to be looking for references to golems so he could hand it to Giles.

Why, oh, why, did he have to mention Shale?

He laid the book down on the table and stood up, rubbing his temples. When Giles had angrily shoved the book into his hands, Xander didn't have the heart to tell him that he had no idea how to read Hebrew. So for the last hour he had just been turning the pages slowly, pretending to be reading, while Giles would sit there occasionally glaring at Xander and muttering angrily to himself.

No two ways about it, Giles was pissed.

It was just the two of them for the moment. Giles had nearly called in the rest of the gang to help with the research, but Xander had begged him not too. As much as he was aching to see Willow and Buffy again, he wasn't sure how much of his out-of-body experiences he wanted to share with them. As a matter of fact, his first instinct was to not tell them anything at all.

Of course Giles had quickly told him how stupid that idea was. Instead they compromised. They wouldn't tell the gang anything for the next couple of weeks, while Xander settled on how much he wanted them to know. If there was one thing he learned from his botched reveal to Giles, it was that he really sucked at giving summaries. So the extra time would help him to refine his story-telling abilities, something that he really should be better at by now.

Xander made his way to a corner of Giles' living room where he kept some of his weapons. He rummaged through them a bit and found to his surprise a very short sword. He racked his brain for a moment because he recognized it from some gladiator movies he had seen as a kid. He was pretty sure it was called a gladius.

He hefted the weapon, turning it one way, and then the other. Playfully, he tossed it in the air, spinning the blade so it landed again in his hand. It was a little bit longer than his old Ferelden daggers, but not by too much. The weight was comparable as well. A little training and he was sure he could compensate for the differences.

Xander went through the case, searching for another gladius, but it was a vain hope. Still, this wasn't too bad. He grabbed a long, heavy stake and put it in his left hand, while the sword remained in his right.

Getting some space for himself, he started a complicated exercise, where he weaved both of his hands in a complex pattern that constantly shifted from defensive to offensive. It was a technique meant to confuse your opponent while you maneuvered yourself for an opening.

But it wasn't feeling right. His left was too fast, while his right felt too slow. He kept at it though, trying to feel out the rhythm. He slowed his stake hand and sped up his sword hand, trying to compensate.

He tried the exercise again. Still not right. Another adjustment, and then he tried it again. No, still awkward. And then again. _Damn it!_

He tried one more time.

Bingo! He found it.

He kept at it, but now his pace increased ever so slightly every time he completed the exercise. It was working, so he kept going, his hands moving faster and faster. Feeling confident that he at least had the rhythm right, Xander started to circle an imaginary opponent. His weapons stabbed, prodded, and sliced as he dove deeper into the exercise, even adding an occasional feint for good measure.

With a spin that would have surely placed him in position for a backstab, Xander completed the exercise. Playfully, he spun the sword in his hand, admiring the feel. He was going to need lots of practice, sure, but he could already see the possibilities.

It was then he noticed Giles staring at him in open-mouth wonder.

"Hey!" he said excitedly in a tone similar to that of five year old opening a particularly cool Christmas present. "Can I keep this?"

Saying nothing, Giles stood up, reaching for the last of the brandy.

"Was that a 'no'?"

**End of Chapter 4**


	9. Part 9, Most people die

**Title:** A Rogue's Heart – Part 9, Interlude 4

**Author:** Wicked Raygun

**Summary:** For Xander Harris, the Hero of Ferelden, sacrifice is only the beginning. He ends the Blight, only to return to the home he no longer has a place in. Xander/Leliana.

**Disclaimer:** Based on characters created by Joss Whedon, and Bioware. I am merely borrowing them to put on a puppet show. Watch them dance.

**Notes:** This story is mostly a series of character pieces with sporadic action thrown in for variety. There's no real plan for this. I'll post chapters as they come to me. I'll be referring to events in the Dragon Age: Origins video game using Interludes. Chapters will actually continue the story forward.

**Spoilers:** And how! Events take place in the summer after season 3 of BTVS, moving into season 4. And all the events of Dragon Age: Origins, possibly including the various DLC are up for grabs. If you aren't familiar with Dragon Age, then lower your head in shame. Go on. Lower it.

**Distribution:** Ask and you shall receive. Just email me and I'll get back to you quickly using new-fangled technology. See, I get email on my phone now. Surely jet packs and flying cars are just around the corner.

* * *

**A Rogue's Heart**

**Part 9, Interlude 4 – Most people die, when they're hit with a ball of lightning**

Xander's eyes fluttered, as he slowly tried to regain consciousness. The familiar sounds of the camp came to his senses, only they seemed unusually distant.

When his eyes finally adjusted, he recognized his surroundings as Morrigan's tent. He was in a lot of pain, he couldn't remember anything clearly, he was wrapped up in a warm blanket—

And he was naked.

Strange.

Finally, Morrigan appeared carrying a couple of small vials. Her eyes squinted a little as she tried to read the labels.

"Did we have sex?" he asked her. It surprised him how slurred his words sounded to him.

Without turning away from her vials, she answered.

"No. Sadly, you were merely hit with a ball of lightning. Although I suppose it would be easy to confuse the two."

"Oh. That makes more sense. Why do I feel drunk?"

"Our companions insisted I use anesthesia while I stitched you up. I had none, so we improvised. It took a surprising amount of ale to put you under. Alistair was particularly impressed. Of course, he's also fascinated with warm socks, so don't read too much into that."

Now that he thought about it, he could vaguely remember a barrel and a cup filled with something very brown.

And suddenly something clicked in his head.

_Did she say lightning?_

"When did I get hit by lightning?"

"In the battle."

"There was a battle? Did we win?"

"We're all still alive, which is more than I can say for the Darkspawn. So, yes, I suppose we did. You were a bit touch-and-go, for a while there, but that's to be expected, since most people die, when they're hit with a ball of lightning."

"It's rather fascinating that you didn't, actually," Morrigan continued. "It could have something to do with you being a Grey Warden, or perhaps that you come from another world – or maybe you just have the mental acuity of a dwarf. I don't suppose that you'd object to me randomly hitting you with various spells to test your reaction to them?"

Xander had slightly lost consciousness during her long answer, and missed most of what she had said. He was aware that she finished with a question though, so he didn't want to seem rude.

"Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, sure – whatever you want."

Morrigan chuckled.

"Well, I suppose it was a considerable amount of ale. Still, I'll be sure to hold you to our agreement, nonetheless."

"Okay," he answered in a dozy voice. "But why am I naked, again?"

"The lining in your armor caught fire. It was deemed prudent to remove it, before you were burned to death. And, besides, it makes it much easier to take advantage of you sexually."

"Oh. Fire bad."

"Yes. Fire very bad. Sex very good. Go to sleep now, before I hit you with a large stick. I have lots of inappropriate touching to do."

He drifted off to sleep, a few moments later.

No sticks were involved.

And, as far as Xander knew, no inappropriate touching either.

* * *

The next morning, when Xander was more clear-headed, he was given the full story. The party had been attacked by a band of Darkspawn. One of them was an emissary, making the battle a little more complicated.

At one point, he dove in front of Leliana, taking a ball of lightning in his back. They continued the battle, thinking him dead, but were pleasantly surprised, afterwards, to find him alive, albeit slightly on fire.

Morrigan had been tasked with healing him. This mostly consisted of getting him drunk, stitching him up, applying a liberal amount of poultices to his body, and mostly shrugging when people asked if he was going to survive.

She wasn't much of a healer, had never claimed to be, and was more than a little miffed that everyone just assumed that she could anyway. If they wanted a damn mage healer so badly, then they had better well bloody find one. Because there was no way she was going to bother learning that exceedingly boring branch of magic, especially since if she got hurt, none of them would be able to heal her the same way. As far as she was concerned, they could all take the same chances she was, and be grateful she didn't just slit their throats whilst they slept.

She would also mutter things along the lines of how nobody ever seemed to need mages until they were bleeding profusely. And then suddenly it was, "Oh, please, heal us with your Maker given gifts, oh great and powerful mage. Now that you're done, please, do be a good little apostate and allow us to burn you at the stake!"

The rest of the party might have found this more amusing, if Xander hadn't been inches away from death throughout her entire diatribe.

It was during breakfast, that Xander noticed that Leliana wasn't around. Neither was Scooby for that matter. Alistair had said that once he had been stabilized, she had wandered off a bit. He pointed him in the right direction.

After a few minutes of walking he found Leliana next to a pond, leaning against a tree, absently stroking Scooby's head. She looked perfectly miserable. She apparently still wore her armor from the previous battle. It was covered in dried Darkspawn blood.

The sight angered him.

"I hope you at least checked yourself for wounds. Darkspawn blood is deadly to humans, you know," he said, his voice sounding like cold steel.

She was startled.

"Oh, Xander – when did – when did you get here?"

The fact that she hadn't detected him, even when he wasn't trying to be stealthy, was worrisome. He was never able to sneak up on her. And he doubted that his wincing at every step had made him any quieter.

Leliana was not herself.

"I got here just now," he told her in a softer voice. "Leliana, you need to wash off that blood."

She stared at herself as if she suddenly realized she had blood on her. She started checking her armor. The sudden movement disturbed Scooby's resting place on her lap, and he whined pitifully.

"I meant to – I was going to wash this off, and I just sat down and – and—"

"Drifted off?"

She just nodded.

"Is this about what happened to me, yesterday? Because I'm fine."

"You're not fine!" Leliana screamed. The emotion in her voice threw him off. It was a couple moment before he was able to speak again.

"Look, Lee, I'm a little extra crispy, but otherwise I'm okay. According to Sten, I'm 'shockingly hard to kill.' I'm kind of proud of him. He used a pun. I'm not completely sure he was aware of it, but I'll take what I can get," Xander said, finishing with a charming smile.

Leliana shook her head in disbelief. "This – this isn't funny. How – how can you laugh at all this? You should be dead," Leliana said, her last words coming out nearly as a whisper.

"Well—" Xander began.

"You're not supposed to die for me!" She sounded so angry.

Xander sighed. He stepped closer to her, and placed a hand on one of her shoulders.

"You're my friend. Who else am I going to die for?" he asked with a small hint of amusement.

She shrugged her shoulders away from his touch.

"You don't even know me," she said, quietly. "And you're too important – to Ferelden, to the World, to, to—" Her words trailed off as her emotions got the better of her. Xander could now see a stray tear escaping from one of her eyes. "There's only two of you left. And – and you're our leader—"

That was news to him.

"I'm the what?"

She looked back at him confused.

"Don't tell me you didn't realize it. Who do you think we've been following all this time?"

"I, uh, thought it was more of a democratic thing. I mean, Alistair mentioned Redcliffe, and no one seemed to mind. And we obviously need to see the Mages next, if we're going to help that kid—"

"Those have been your decisions. We've been following you."

Xander blinked.

"You do know that Alistair's like next in line to the throne, right?" he argued.

"I think, you'd be hard pressed to find anyone who fears leadership more than Alistair. He abdicates to you, every chance he gets."

Xander mulled that over.

"So I've been leading us?"

"Yes," she said in an exasperated tone.

"It's kind of amazing we're all still alive," he said, feeling dazed.

Xander slowly sat down next to Leliana, wincing as he did so. His entire body still ached. Scooby took the opportunity to lay his head in his lap. Xander stroked his head, while the mabari licked his hand in affection.

"Have you been following me, too?"

Scooby barked happily in reply.

Xander sighed and then began to softly scratch Scooby behind the ears. He promptly turned on his back, begging Xander to rub his belly too.

"Nah, you'll just get spoiled."

Scooby whined in a manner that managed to somehow sound indignant.

"Don't be such a baby. I'll give you a nice big belly rub later, I promise. Now go play fetch with Morrigan. She's been entirely too smug lately."

Scooby stood up, wagged his tail and spun around several times, before taking off like a shot toward camp. Xander turned his head toward Leliana and held up three fingers.

Then two.

Then one.

Then…

"Damn it, Xander! Control this beast before I fry it for supper! I swear it's like you feed it pure lirium! Get down! Wait – that's mine! Come back here you mangy, overgrown sewer rat! Give me back my staff, so I can kill you properly!"

Xander sighed, happily. "Best. Dog. Ever."

Leliana finally broke down laughing, but managed to cover her mouth to keep too much noise from escaping. Xander meanwhile, had a devilish smirk on his face.

"Would you look at that," he said to her. "You can still smile, after all."

Leliana scowled good-naturedly at him.

"I'm still mad at you, you know."

"For the nearly dying? I should warn you. That kind of thing happens to me a lot. Sometimes without the 'nearly' part."

Leliana sighed. "So we've noticed. You really need to be more careful. I – **we** need you."

"I'll try."

Leliana scowled at him for another moment, and then sighed. She turned her head, her expression made her look like she was sulking.

_God, she's cute._

"Hey, Lee—?"

"Leliana," she corrected him, enunciating her full name carefully, with an adorable Orlesian accent flowing throughout. "Why do you insist on calling me this way?"

"It amuses me," he told her candidly. He leaned in closer to her, this time his voice sounded serious. "Does it really upset you?"

"I – I suppose not. It's just – my mother used to call me that, and, well, no one else ever did. It makes me think about her."

"I could stop."

"No, it – I mean, I guess it's alright. You can call me that, if you wish. I kind of like it, actually," she said, sounding almost shy. And that was surprising. Leliana was many things, but never shy.

Xander smiled.

"Okay."

After a long moment, Xander started to sit up. "So, Lee, this is what's going to happen: I'm going to stagger back to camp, face Morrigan's wrath while trying not to laugh, and you're going to wash that blood off." The last part, of what he said, was definitely an order.

"Ouï, mon Capitaine," she answered in a tone that was only slightly mocking.

"I'm serious."

"So am I," she answered gravely. "Where you go, I will follow."

Xander smiled again.

"You know, it occurs to me that you were right earlier."

"About what?"

"I don't know much about you. That should change."

A mild look of panic crossed Leliana's features for the briefest of moments before she recovered. Anyone else might have missed it, but Xander was always good at this sort of thing.

"There's really not much to tell," she told him, evasively.

"Relax, you don't have to bare your soul tonight, but you do need to bare something. I did save your life, after all."

Leliana looked flustered.

"What?"

"You owe me one embarrassing story, preferably from your childhood, although anything from adolescence would also be allowed, especially if it involves an absence of clothing – anyways, the more humiliating, the better."

"Why would you want to know such a thing?" she asked, amused.

Xander shrugged. "Friends got to start somewhere."

With that, Xander limped back to the camp. When he was gone, Leliana smiled sadly.

Thinking back on her life, she wasn't sure if she ever had any friends.

Perhaps that should change.

**End of Part 9**


	10. Part 10, Will Rogue for Food

**Title:** A Rogue's Heart – Part 10, Chapter 5

**Author:** Wicked Raygun

**Summary:** For Xander Harris, the Hero of Ferelden, sacrifice is only the beginning. He ends the Blight, only to return to the home he no longer has a place in. Xander/Leliana.

**Disclaimer:** Based on characters created by Joss Whedon, and Bioware. I am merely borrowing them to put on a puppet show. Watch them dance.

**Notes:** This story is mostly a series of character pieces with sporadic action thrown in for variety. There's no real plan for this. I'll post chapters as they come to me. I'll be referring to events in the "Dragon Age: Origins" video game using Interludes. Chapters will actually continue the story forward.

**Spoilers:** And how! Events take place in the summer after season 3 of BTVS, moving into season 4. And all the events of "Dragon Age: Origins", possibly including the various DLC are up for grabs. If you aren't familiar with Dragon Age, then lower your head in shame. Go on. Lower it.

**Distribution:** Ask and you shall receive. Just email me and I'll get back to you quickly using new-fangled technology. See, I get email on my phone now. Surely jet packs and flying cars are just around the corner.

* * *

**A Rogue's Heart**

**Part ****10, Chapter 5 – Will Rogue for Food**

Two women sat in a graveyard. They were young, beautiful, and dressed fashionably in vibrant colors – the perfect vampire bait.

They were two of the most influential people in Xander's life. Without them, there wouldn't be a Xander Harris. Period. He had once thought that he had lost them forever. And that depressing thought had led him to make some very reckless choices. But now, they were barely more than twenty yards away from him.

They might as well be a million miles away.

In theory, it would be so easy to just walk on over and say, "Hello." In reality, he was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to do it without breaking down. As it was, he kept wiping moisture away from his eyes.

His girls – **his girls** – were right in front of him, alive and well. The very thought made him want to pump his arms and dance wildly like a blissful idiot.

He almost took off, then and there, but then the fear kicked in again.

What would they say, once they knew? Would they be angry and disappointed, like Giles? Or would they just be so thrilled that he was alive, that they wouldn't care?

But, of course, they would care.

His blood was tainted. He was going to die. Hell, he wasn't even completely sure a Grey Warden qualified as human anymore, especially considering his unique little "mutation."

He would have to face the music, eventually. He knew that on an intellectual level, but he just wasn't ready yet. He still needed more time.

Xander did his best to stifle a sigh. He needed to keep quiet, or else his reunion might happen a little faster than he intended.

As it was, he was slightly amazed that Buffy hadn't found him out already. He knew he was good at being quiet, when he wanted to be, but he had his doubts that he could pull that off against a Slayer.

He had a feeling that Buffy was off her game. And he didn't have to think too hard to imagine why. Angel, college, the Hellmouth – any one of those things alone might be enough to distract your average mortal, so the full-on combo was probably a bit overkill, even for Buffy.

Maybe he should mention it to Giles, when—

_Great googly moogly__!_

Xander watched for a moment, dumbfounded, as a vampire began digging himself out of a grave, while Buffy and Willow were turned around, talking about – well, who the hell knew what! But whatever they were talking about it couldn't possibly be more important than a freaking vampire rising from the grave to feast on their blood!

Quicker than thought, Xander notched an arrow and aimed. If it was anyone other than Buffy, he would have fired already and not given it a second thought. But there was a legitimate possibility that Buffy was fully aware of what was going on, and was just trying to lull the vampire into a false sense of security. And if Xander fired, he might hit her, when she finally made her needlessly dramatic move.

So Xander waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And—_what the hell?_

Okay, this was officially beyond lulling. Buffy obviously had no clue that she was about to become puppy chow. The vampire was practically right on top of her.

Xander steadied his breathing, preparing himself to take the shot. He was just about to let loose, when the most unpredictable thing happened.

The vampire simply turned around. It was trying to slip away.

Wow.

A vampire that wasn't dumb enough to take on Buffy? Well, now, he had officially seen "everything."

He was so rattled by the very concept that he almost didn't take the shot.

Almost.

* * *

Buffy frowned.

"Did you hear that?" she asked Willow.

"Huh? Hear what?"

"I thought I heard something."

"What was it?"

"I don't know – but I could have sworn I heard something."

They both remained quiet, allowing Buffy to try to focus her hearing. For a second, she thought she could almost hear breathing, which meant either someone was watching them, or there was an animal nearby.

After half a minute, Buffy decided that it was probably an animal. Not too many people in Sunnydale were dumb enough to hang around in a graveyard after dark. And the few that did, were her friends, and knew enough to at least bring a cross and stake.

Buffy shrugged.

"Must have been an animal," she told Willow. Buffy sighed and glared at the grave they were waiting on.

"Man, this guy is taking forever."

* * *

At about four in the morning, Xander walked into his new home, which, coincidentally, used to be Angel's.

The old Crawford Street Mansion looked as beat up and miserable as it always did. The only difference was the new locks that had been put on all the doors.

Be it ever so humble, there's no place like a squatter's home.

Despite being back more than a week, Xander hadn't bothered to see his parents. He had gotten as far as the door, but then simply turned around and walked away. He didn't want to face them. But unlike Buffy and Willow, where his hesitance was rooted in profound fear, with his parents it was more of a profound indifference.

Walking around Ferelden, camping under the stars, had given him a lot of time for reflection, and of all the things he had missed, his parents hadn't really been one of them. They weren't bad people, he supposed. It wasn't like they beat him or anything. And, despite coming close a few times, he had never actually starved.

It was just that the two of them seemed destined to hurt each other. Oh, the shouting was bad. No doubt about that. But it was the quiet moments that really sucked. His folks, would trade hurtful, snide, underhanded barbs at each other, in a weird game of one-upmanship.

And they weren't above putting him in the middle of it either. And maybe that wouldn't have been so bad, except that it was really the only time the paid any attention to him.

With the drinking getting steadily worse and worse every year, it just hadn't felt like home. Sadly, he couldn't really remember a time, when it ever had.

He didn't hate them, although a part of him wanted to. That would make his life so much easier. But he didn't really pity them either. They had pretty much dug their own hole, and he just didn't really have it in him to help them out of it.

So, instead of asking his parents for help, he decided that he would rather squat in a vampire's former hideout, where one of his friends was tortured and the world was nearly dragged into hell.

Xander smiled, wryly.

He made his way upstairs, and walked into one of the spare rooms where he had been sleeping. It had been used mostly for storage, but it was organized well enough that he had enough space to lay out comfortably on his sleeping bag.

Only the master bedroom had a bed. But when he first got there he took one look at it, and idly wondered if Buffy and Angel had ever, well, **done** anything on it. With that less than pleasant thought, he had simply closed the room and vowed to never open it again.

Ever.

He put away his weapons, taking particular care to loosen the drawstring of his new compound bow. The bow had a fascinating mechanism designed for that purpose that he wished he had back in Ferelden, because stringing up a longbow could be a pain in the ass, even when you knew what you were doing. He set it aside, and laid down to get some rest.

Xander sighed. He was really going to have to find some money soon. That meant he had to find a job. And while he was now skilled in many things, he doubted he would be able to put them on a résumé.

He chuckled as he pictured himself holding a cardboard sign, saying, "Will Rogue for Food."

After a few minutes, Xander fell asleep and dreamt of a very flexible, red-headed bard.

It was a very nice dream.

* * *

A few hours later, Xander was awake and standing outside Giles' house. He knocked on the door. The door opened, revealing the Watcher in sweat pants and a t-shirt.

"Wow, Giles, loving the look. I got to say, though, I didn't think you had any clothes that weren't librarian sheik."

Giles rolled his eyes. "And, of course, now that you know my secret, you'll simply have to be killed." He backed into his house and indicated for Xander to come in silently.

Once he was inside, he continued speaking.

"And speaking of being killed – I went to sleep last night, and you know what I noticed? That Willow and Buffy hadn't called my frantically to tell me that you were dead. So, I suppose, I can safely say you still haven't spoken to them."

"Point taken. Xander is a cowardly lion. Now, can we speak about the reason I'm here?"

"Fair enough."

"And just as an aside, just how long do you plan on staying angry with me?"

"I haven't ruled out infinity yet. So what is it you need?"

"The Killer of the Dead."

"I hear she goes by 'Buffy', these days."

"I meant the poison."

Giles gave him an odd look.

"You mean the one that Faith used on Angel before Graduation?"

"Yeah, that'd be it."

"What in the world would you want with that?"

"Curiously, I was thinking I might kill a few vampires with it. Or start my own fragrance line. I'm kind of on the fence about the whole thing, right now. But, hey, I like to dream big."

Giles shook his head, and then took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"What brought this on?"

"I'm a really good shot with a bow and arrow, Giles. But, while hitting a vampire from long range in the heart isn't impossible, doing it every single time kind of is. With the poison, I don't have to worry about the one that got away, seeing as they'll be dead in a few hours."

"Did one get away?"

"No. Not yet. But they will."

Giles sighed. "I don't know, Xander. Using poison of all things, just seems so, so—"

"Underhanded and sneaky? Yeah, but I'm surprisingly comfortable with that," Xander said, finishing for Giles when he started to trail off.

"You do realize, that if the vampires catch on, it'll make Buffy a target," Giles said, referring to the fact that the only way to cure the poison, was for the vampire to drain a slayer of her blood.

"Pfft! More than she is now? Besides, a vampire with a high fever and falling over himself trying to take on Buffy for the Heavyweight Slayer Championship doesn't exactly color me with worry."

"There's something else you're forgetting."

"What?"

"Faith."

Xander winced. If word ever got out on the poison, and the vampires figured out what it was, it could potentially make her a target.

"Hold on. I need a moment to process this. I'm trying to see if I care – and, alas, I do. Being a good guy kind of sucks some times."

Xander continued to mull the idea over in his head, and considered something else.

"But, hey, didn't you and Willow do your mojo thing so that no baddies could get in her room."

"Well, yes. We did."

"Then it should be okay. After all, aren't slayers good for like a thousand different spell components, anyway? And no one's hacksawed Faith, yet."

Giles shook his head.

"I still don't like the risk."

"Well, what if we could increase the potency? So the big death takes minutes instead of hours? That would pretty much guarantee folks will leave Faith alone. Come on, it's got to at least be worth researching."

Giles perked up at the word "research" in an almost pavlovian way.

"I suppose it couldn't hurt. I believe I have some notes on the poison in my Watcher Journal that we could start off with"

"That's the spirit!"

* * *

An hour later, Giles and Xander were going through the books. They were working on translating the recipe for the poison from some sort of Gaelic into English. Well, Giles was mostly doing this part on his own.

When it came to research, Xander could cross-reference like no one's business. Actual translation, on the other hand, while doable, was a painfully slow process. So it was generally best to just let Giles do it.

Xander decided that on this front, he was best left providing moral support, which he chose to express by getting something to eat.

He went to the fridge, knowing it was almost assuredly a waste of time. Giles didn't keep food there, unless it was some sort of leftover takeout. Still it was worth a shot. Maybe there was some peanut butter or something.

But Xander was pleasantly surprised to find that he was wrong.

"Hey, Giles?"

"Yes."

"There's something wrong with your fridge."

"What?"

"It's full – as in, of food. Did a burglar break in and take pity on you?"

Giles sighed, and then replied, indignantly, "Believe it or not, I do occasionally go to the market."

Xander chuckled, sarcastically.

"Since when?"

"Since I became an adult."

Xander ignored him, deciding to rummage for something edible and quick when he noticed something odd.

"Wait – hold on a second. Wine, cheese, chocolate, strawberries, whip cream? – Hey, this is sexy food! You're trying to get laid! Eww!"

Xander closed the refrigerator door.

"The cookies were tainted with sin," he said mournfully.

"Do you absolutely have to make a scene?"

"Yes. I do. I want you to admit that you're trying to get your Watcher swerve on."

"Fine, then. Yes. I'm having an old friend over tonight. Better?"

"A sexy old friend?"

"Don't make me shoot you with a crossbow."

* * *

The ingredients for the Killer of the Dead poison were surprisingly harmless. Mostly it involved dried flowers, holy water, a type of fragrant oil and a few simple to find herbs. All of which could be bought over the counter at the local magic shop.

The preparation itself only involved a mortal and pestle. After that, all you had to do was finish up with a quick prayer in Latin, and you were in business. Just about any idiot could pull it off.

For something that had been so potent, Xander had expected that something much more demanding would be involved. Not that he was complaining, at all. Hell, he was practically giddy. It was a relief that for once a ritual didn't require the blood of some virgin.

The poison was originally designed to kill vampires, but according to the texts they found it would also work on zombies and a few lower level demons. Although with demons the results could vary wildly. For some it worked the same way it did on vampires, while on others all it did was cause a headache or a sneezing fit. But, most amusingly, there were a few documentations of demons literally bursting into flames.

_That would be so cool._

Xander had decided that he wanted to whip up a batch right away, so he left immediately to go to the magic shop. He was no stranger to mortar and pestle. Back in Ferelden, he had mixed more than his fair share of poisons. That should be a snap.

His Latin was a little rusty though. He was going to have to practice that part phonetically. But at least it was Latin, and not something utterly impossible to pronounce, like Sumerian. He'd watched Giles perform a Sumerian ritual once, if it hadn't been for all the swirling lights indicating magical power, he would have sworn the guy had just been making it all up.

So, in general, things were looking up.

But then he turned a corner and saw all the police.

_Crap._

There were three cop cars and a coroner's van surrounding the outside of the magic shop. And that meant bodies.

"No. You're not listening to me, officer. Kent was his first name. Todd was his last. Spelled with two d's," said the owner to one of the police officers.

Xander did the concerned citizen thing and hung back, listening to as many of the details as he could. So far it was sounding like you're standard vampire feeding frenzy. Someone was going to have to stake out poor Kent Todd's grave to make sure he didn't wake up.

The owner, a man named Mr. Willis, went over to a discreet area and started ranting out loud to himself. Luckily, Xander was nearby, so he could listen in.

"Unbelievable. That's the fourth employee this year. Why the hell do gang members keep coming here, anyway? I don't keep more than fifty bucks in the register at all times. It's store policy. How much PCP could you possibly buy with that, anyway?"

Xander sighed.

Yeah, the old magic shop was pretty much a death trap. All stores in Sunnydale attracted their fair share of vampires and demons; it was the nature of doing business on the Hellmouth. But for some reason, working at the magic shop was like wearing a giant neon sign, saying, "Eat me!"

Everybody knew it, too. Even the most oblivious of Sunnydale citizens would comment on it. Only a complete and total moron would willingly work there.

Xander took a deep, calming breath.

"Mr. Willis?"

The owner turned toward him.

"Are you hiring?"

**End of Part 10**


	11. Part 11, So Easy, Murder

**Title:** A Rogue's Heart – Part 11, Interlude 5

**Author:** Wicked Raygun

**Summary:** For Xander Harris, the Hero of Ferelden, sacrifice is only the beginning. He ends the Blight, only to return to the home he no longer has a place in. Xander/Leliana.

**Disclaimer:** Based on characters created by Joss Whedon, and Bioware. I am merely borrowing them to put on a puppet show. Watch them dance.

**Notes:** This story is mostly a series of character pieces with sporadic action thrown in for variety. There's no real plan for this. I'll post chapters as they come to me. I'll be referring to events in the "Dragon Age: Origins" video game using Interludes. Chapters will actually continue the story forward.

**Spoilers:** And how! Events take place in the summer after season 3 of BTVS, moving into season 4. And all the events of "Dragon Age: Origins", possibly including the various DLC are up for grabs. If you aren't familiar with Dragon Age, then lower your head in shame. Go on. Lower it.

**Distribution:** Ask and you shall receive. Just email me and I'll get back to you quickly using new-fangled technology. See, I get email on my phone now. Surely jet packs and flying cars are just around the corner.

* * *

**A Rogue's Heart**

**Part 11, Interlude 5 – So Easy, Murder**

"Xander? Do you want to talk?"

"I'm okay, Lee. Don't worry about it."

Leliana frowned. Xander was not fine. He was quiet and moody and incredibly angry. And he had been that way ever since the werewolf.

"Xander, please. You can talk to me. We're – we're friends, aren't we?"

_Yeah_, he thought bitterly. _Friends._

"Look, I'm fine. I just need a few minutes alone. So just back off, okay." he told her in quiet voice that belied a seething rage. He walked past her without a second glance.

Leliana wrapped her arms around herself, and stood there as Xander stomped off into the woods. Xander had never refused to talk to her before. And his rejection of her offer to help had hurt a lot.

"Perhaps, I could speak to him," said a warm friendly voice from behind her.

"Wynne? I'm not so sure that is a good idea. He – he gets this way sometimes, whenever he – whenever he kills," Leliana said, her final words quieter than the rest.

Leliana was referring to the elf Danyla who had been turned into a werewolf, and had asked Xander to kill her, to put her out of her misery. Xander had tried to talk her out of it, but, in the end, he had pulled out a short dagger and ended her suffering.

Leliana had said a Chantry prayer for the dead, wishing she knew what the proper Dalish rites were. After she had said her part, Xander had turned to her with dead eyes, and told the rest of the group that they needed to keep moving.

That look had scared her.

He had gotten this way before. Whenever he killed a human, or a dwarf, or an elf, it bothered him greatly. It did not matter that moments ago, they had been facing a group of bandits, or assassins bent on their death. It did not matter that his actions saved lives. The killing itself bothered him greatly, as if every time he did it, he had failed in some way.

It was times like this that she hated Buffy.

The way he spoke of her, as if she was a champion chosen by the Maker himself – he worshipped her. That would be fine enough, she supposed, but he also seemed desperate to compare himself to her constantly. And, in his mind, Buffy just seemed to be this impossible ideal that no mere mortal could possibly reach.

All it did was make him underplay his own accomplishments, while constantly obsessing over his failures. It was maddening.

And a girl could read between the lines. Whether he knew it or not, he had obviously loved her, as well. She had never confronted him about it, they were only friends, after all, and it wasn't truly her place—

Leliana swallowed a lump in her throat that suddenly sprang up.

"Are you well, child?"

Leliana had momentarily forgotten about Wynne.

"Oh, uh, yes, of course. I'm – I'm just worried about him."

"Yes. I've noticed," Wynne said, with a knowing smile on her face. "You worry about him a lot, don't you?"

Leliana resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She liked Wynne, she really did, but she just had this way about her that could irk her easily.

"Not this again, Wynne. We are friends. Nothing more."

Leliana swallowed back another lump in her throat.

"Good."

Leliana looked at Wynne with surprise. All those knowing looks, and little smirks, she was sure that Wynne had been trying to play matchmaker. But the way she had just spoke—

"He is a Grey Warden, Leliana. Do you understand what that means?" When she said nothing, Wynne continued. "His life can only ever be about sacrifice. He is meant to share his life with the entire world, not just one girl – no matter what he might feel. What he needs now is friendship, not love. Friendship is about sharing. It is selfless, while love, despite all its splendor and joy, is always a little selfish. And in the time of a Blight, he cannot afford to be."

Leliana's fists shook with anger.

"What are you trying to say, Wynne?"she asked, coldly, through gritted teeth.

Wynne took in her demeanor, and chose her next words very carefully.

"Only this: if you care for Xander, then be his friend. And nothing more."

For one brief moment, Leliana felt that chill in her heart, that coldness that allowed her to do horrible things without a second thought – that made even something like murder come easy. She hadn't really felt that chill since her time began with the Chantry.

For one brief moment, Leliana seriously contemplated slicing Wynne's throat.

"If you'll excuse me, Wynne. I believe my friend needs me."

Leliana turned away from Wynne and headed toward Xander. He was in pain and needed her, and she would not leave him to deal with his pain alone.

And, in the meantime, Wynne had better stay away from her.

Or else.

**End of Part 11**

**

* * *

**

_Author's Note:__ Sorry, guys, I know it's been a while, but I've been living in interesting times lately. This is only a short scene, but I think it works. But, not to worry, I've already begun work on part 12, and I can guarantee that it'll be significantly longer since it's the reunion of Buffy and Xander. As a matter of fact, it already is._


	12. Part 12, Her Name is What It Means

**Title:** A Rogue's Heart – Part 12, Chapter 6

**Author:** Wicked Raygun

**Summary:** For Xander Harris, the Hero of Ferelden, sacrifice is only the beginning. He ends the Blight, only to return to the home he no longer has a place in. Xander/Leliana.

**Disclaimer:** Based on characters created by Joss Whedon, and Bioware. I am merely borrowing them to put on a puppet show. Watch them dance.

**Notes:** This story is mostly a series of character pieces with sporadic action thrown in for variety. There's no real plan for this. I'll post chapters as they come to me. I'll be referring to events in the "Dragon Age: Origins" video game using Interludes. Chapters will actually continue the story forward.

**Spoilers:** And how! Events take place in the summer after season 3 of BTVS, moving into season 4. And all the events of "Dragon Age: Origins", possibly including the various DLC are up for grabs. If you aren't familiar with Dragon Age, then lower your head in shame. Go on. Lower it.

**Distribution:** Ask and you shall receive. Just email me and I'll get back to you quickly using new-fangled technology. See, I get email on my phone now. Surely jet packs and flying cars are just around the corner.

* * *

**A Rogue's Heart**

**Part ****12, Chapter 6 – Her Name is What It Means**

It would have been so easy to avoid her. He had been doing that very thing for nearly two weeks now. Not only her though, he'd been avoiding Willow as well, but mostly it was Buffy he didn't know how to deal with.

Buffy was not only his friend, she was also his hero. As much as he wanted her as a woman, or cared for her as a friend, he mostly needed her as his hero – as his guide.

Not a day went by in Ferelden where he didn't think of her. Mostly he wondered what she would do in his place. Sometimes the answer came easily. Other times, it eluded him, driving him mad with uncertainty. But there was one thing he was sure of, no matter what she would do, she would definitely have done better than him.

He tried to explain it to Leliana once, but she never understood. As far as she was concerned, he was more than an adequate leader. That was flattering, but it was also wrong.

Did his companions ever feel sure that they would win, despite the odds, because they followed him into battle?

He doubted it.

Did they ever feel safer by his side, than running away from danger?

Not likely.

They never went into battle under Buffy's banner. Never felt the absolute certainty that no matter what happened, Buffy would somehow save the day, and inevitably look good doing it. It wasn't a matter of style over substance either, because somehow she was both. She was amazing, she was perfect, she was indescribable.

She was, simply put, Buffy.

Xander smiled sadly.

Leliana had tried to train him, but in the end, Xander never felt like a passable bard. His singing was never much to write home about, and his flute work left much to be desired. So he became a storyteller.

The Scooby's misadventures on the Hellmouth had been his favorite topic, albeit edited for time and content. Unlike the Darkspawn, vampires were merely a myth in Ferelden. So Buffy became the Darkspawn Slayer, Giles a Grey Warden, Willow was an Elf Circle Mage, and, since it felt wrong to leave him out, Angel became a Templar with a dark past.

In the time of a full-blown Blight, it made for a pretty good yarn.

And he found that he could, indeed, enchant a crowd with his stories, even though, he always felt the stories just lacked something. He just never quite had the right words to describe something as primal as Buffy. And that wasn't to say that he didn't try.

When he told his stories about her, the crowds came in droves to listen. They cheered and laughed and, amazingly, some even cried. But no matter how much they seemed to love the tales, no matter how many little girls he found afterwards fighting over which one could play Buffy or Willow, despite the claps on the back, the toasts to Buffy the Darkspawn Slayer, or the crowds screaming for more – it never felt right.

Because he just knew he wasn't doing her justice. Buffy was a hero, a slayer, a young woman, and a great friend. She was all of those things and more. But it was the "and more" that he couldn't quite encapsulate into words. That extra something special that could draw you into her, that made falling in love with her the easiest thing in the world, that made you laugh in the face of danger because she was there.

If words existed that could describe that, Xander never found them.

After his tales, when the fires would burn low, Leliana would take him aside and critique his story telling. According to her, he kept getting better, so the critiques became less and less. But then, inevitably, she would ask the same thing.

"And where were you in that story?"

Xander always left himself out of the tales. It felt weird to talk about himself, so he either glossed over his own contributions, or attributed it to another of his friends, if it was absolutely necessary. It made for a better narrative, anyway, in his opinion.

He usually made a joke about fetching various pastries, in response, but then she would press for the answer. Of course, he would tell her. Even before they shared a tent, they were friends, and there wasn't much he would ever deny a friend. So he would tell her, and without exception she would react the same way. She would tilt her head, smile knowingly, and then mutter something teasing in Orlesian.

They talked a lot about his world. Partly, because Leliana was fascinated by it, but also because she didn't like to speak of her own past beyond vagaries that only hinted at her life before the Chantry. She would speak in generalities, but nothing specific. And the few specifics he did manage to get from her painted a picture of a lost woman, hoping to find her way.

Maybe that was the reason why he had tried so damn hard to find the good in Morrigan.

Xander shook his head, clearing it of the inane thoughts. Buffy was right in front of him, looking miserable. He needed to rectify that.

Blending into a crowd is deceptively difficult. It looks like it should be easy, but it isn't. It requires patience. After all, you can't shove your way though. You need to somehow move through it, flowing with the crowd, and yet carve a path at the same time, and all without drawing attention to yourself.

Leliana had called it a dance.

Xander smiled. God, he missed her. But now was not the time to mope.

The Bronze was a shadowy place, filled with an atmosphere of mystique. Add throbbing 3music, teenagers with raging hormones and young twenty-somethings with booze aplenty, and it wasn't hard to see why it was a favorite haunt of vampires.

Or the Slayer, for that matter.

And there she was, sitting alone at a table, the whole world before her, looking like someone diagnosed her with cancer of the puppy. As he studied her, he noticed that her left arm was in a sling. He didn't see a cast though, which probably meant that it just got wrenched the wrong way real good. But unless that had just happened a few minutes ago, he imagined the sling was mostly for show, at this point. After all, she healed ridiculously fast.

Unless she was depressed.

Buffy must have been really off her game, since he managed to get up right next to her without her seeing him.

"So there's this guy, you see," he began with no preamble or segue way. Buffy looked up and her eyes widened comically when she saw him. Xander took advantage of her stunned silence to sit down across from her.

"He's a handsome fellow – dashing, daring, witty, great with the ladies, but only in the way that he is, in fact, none of those things. And yet through contrived circumstances and dogged perseverance and not a little bit of whining – let's be honest here – he somehow actually manages to make friends with some pretty amazing people. And yet here he finds one, in this dive of all places."

"Xander? Oh, my God, when did you get back?" she asked astonished to see him. She stood up and moved to hug him. He obliged, smiling all the while. He had really missed this. "I thought you were still on your whirlwind tour of America."

"Yeah, funny thing about that. Let's just say for now that I really, **really** missed that left turn back at Albuquerque. If there was some purple mountain majesty to be seen, it wasn't by me. Got a real good look at the nightlife in Oxnard, though."

"Nightlife?" she asked, suspiciously. "Just what exactly did you get up to?"

"The same thing I always get up to when you're not around: trouble."

"What kind of trouble?" she asked pointedly, and yet with an amused undertone. She wanted to be angry, but he was here, alive and well, so she figured she could save the righteous indignation for another day.

"The Hellmouthy kind. I tumbled through the looking glass, only literally – boy, were those elves surprised – and I ended up in another world. Don't be so shocked. Honestly, you really should know by now that I shouldn't be left to my own devices – hijinks inevitably ensue."

There was an odd look in his eyes, so instead of chastising him or asking him what he meant by "elves", which would have been her first response, she asked, "Are you okay?"

Xander shook his head slowly, a pained grin on his face.

"No. Not by a long shot."

"Xander, if—?" she began to ask concerned.

"I'm fine, Buff. I'm dealing and functional – which is more than I can say about your arm. So, who was it? And did they die an amusing death?"

Buffy sighed.

"Sunday."

"As in, 'the delicious treat'?"

"No, as in, 'the vampire'."

"Ah. So, just to be thorough, not covered in chocolate syrup, then?"

"No, mostly she was covered in snootiness with a side of smug superiority. She kicked my ass."

"Well, then, let's circle the wagons. Avengers assemble!" With that, Xander stood up, dramatically, ready to leave if necessary, but sure that there was more to Buffy's funk.

"I think the wagon train is pretty much just me. Everyone's kind of busy with their own stuff – even Giles."

Xander nodded in understanding. "Right, he's supposed to be getting his Watcher swerve-on tonight."

They both shuddered simultaneously.

"Hey, wait a sec – how did you know about that?"

Xander chuckled nervously. "Well, I might have done some snooping in his kitchen earlier, and spotted some of his evil foodstuffs of seduction. There may also have been some suspiciously arranged David Bowie records, but I can't be sure, because by that point I was knee-deep in the land of repression."

"You freak of nature! How long have you been in Sunnydale?" Buffy's voiced teetered between frustration and amusement in a way that no one else he ever knew could pull off.

"Oh, a couple of weeks." Off Buffy's insistent glare, he continued. "Well, I was dealing with a pretty traumatic experience, and I knew you guys were starting the whole college adventure – and I didn't want to, um, you know, help you move."

Buffy rolled her eyes, no quite accepting the lame excuse, but willing to let it slide.

"So – whole other world, huh? What was it like?"

"Like a twisted renaissance fair."

"Ooh! Any dragons?"

"Oodles."

"Oh, I always wanted to slay a dragon," she said wistfully.

"It's not such a big. The males are dumber than bricks, and can't use their wings, so really it's just a matter of avoiding their mouths, since with the teeth and the fire it's definitely a no-fun zone. It's the ladies you got to watch out for. Think of a flying Mack truck with napalm and you basically got a dragon."

Buffy stared at him.

"I really can't leave you alone for five minutes, can I?"

"Apparently, not. So how's college?" he asked, with forced enthusiasm.

"No, no. No avoiding the subject. You can't just drop the dragon bomb and expect the rest of this conversation to be about anything other than what wackiness you got up to over the summer. So spill?"

"It's a lot to get into, Buff. Can't we at least continue the interrogation with Willow present? It'd be nice to not have to go through this more than twice."

"Twice?"

"Yeah, Giles already read me the riot act. I never knew he could turn purple, or that he could curse in Sumerian. It was an experience for all the senses."

Buffy laughed, and stared at him fondly.

"I really missed you, you know," she told him seriously.

"Likewise," he said with a smile.

"The things you're not saying – it's bad, right?"

Xander nodded.

"Are you going to be okay?"

He hesitated, but then nodded again, once.

"I'll say this, though," Xander said, after a long pause. "When things got bleak, and I thought I was going to die, and I had no idea what the hell I was doing, all I did was ask myself, 'what would Buffy do?' – It kept me alive. It kept my friends alive. You're my hero, Buffy. Did you know that?"

Buffy stared at him in open-mouthed amazement.

Xander stood up again, and held his hand out to her, as if he were asking her to dance.

"Now let's go find this Sunday bitch and turn her into mulch. What do you say?"

Buffy stared at his outstretched hand for a moment, took it and used it to bring herself up to her feet.

"I think – I think I say 'thank you'."

Xander smiled widely at that, and then chuckled.

"What? What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing. I just got reminded of something else that happened to me in Oxnard that no power on this Earth is going to get me to tell you about."

"What? Why? Is it embarrassing?"

"No power on this Earth!"

* * *

_Author's Note:__ The title of this chapter comes from a line in the Stone Temple Pilots' song "Big Empty." For some reason I just had it stuck in my head the entire time I wrote this. It just kind of fit the scene. It's definitely worth checking out on YouTube, if you've never heard it._


	13. Part 13, Who and What

**Title:** A Rogue's Heart – Part 13, Interlude 6

**Author:** Wicked Raygun

**Summary:** For Xander Harris, the Hero of Ferelden, sacrifice is only the beginning. He ends the Blight, only to return to the home he no longer has a place in. Xander/Leliana.

**Disclaimer:** Based on characters created by Joss Whedon, and Bioware. I am merely borrowing them to put on a puppet show. Watch them dance.

**Notes:** This story is mostly a series of character pieces with sporadic action thrown in for variety. There's no real plan for this. I'll post chapters as they come to me. I'll be referring to events in the "Dragon Age: Origins" video game using Interludes. Chapters will actually continue the story forward.

**Spoilers:** And how! Events take place in the summer after season 3 of BTVS, moving into season 4. And all the events of "Dragon Age: Origins", possibly including the various DLC are up for grabs. If you aren't familiar with Dragon Age, then lower your head in shame. Go on. Lower it.

**Distribution:** Ask and you shall receive. Just email me and I'll get back to you quickly using new-fangled technology. See, I get email on my phone now. Surely jet packs and flying cars are just around the corner.

* * *

**A Rogue's Heart**

**Part 13, Interlude 6 – Who and What**

"A long, long time ago, in a world far, far away, there lived a young human girl. She had beautiful green eyes, and long golden hair. She was beautiful, and the envy of many. She wasn't a noble, but her father was a wealthy merchant, so she was very well off. She was admired and popular. Her name was Buffy, and I can tell many of you hate her already," Xander said, with a smile to his audience. A scattering of laughter answered him.

Surrounding him on all sides was a gathering of Dalish Elves. Some sat on logs, others on the ground under folded legs. A few were standing off to the side, looking at him suspiciously, but tolerantly, which was possibly the closest to respect they ever managed with a human. They all came to hear him give them a story, and he meant to entertain.

"But with all great stories, things have to get worse, before they get better. One day, she was approached by a Grey Warden named Merrick. Merrick was on a quest to find the Darkspawn Slayer – one girl, in all the world, with the strength and power to fight the Darkspawn, and to turn back a Blight, single-handedly. Without a Slayer, it takes an army of men and dwarves and elves – especially, elves," he said cheekily with a wink to his audience. This time more laughter, and a few voices gave a small cheer.

"So the Wardens are always on the lookout for special girls—"

"Is the Slayer always a shemlen?"a very young elf girl asked suddenly, interrupting him.

Xander gave her a wide smile. He liked when the kids asked questions. It meant they were paying attention.

"No. Sometimes she's a human, sometimes she's a dwarf, and, of course, sometimes it's an elf. Destiny doesn't care about where you come from. It only cares about your heart. But if it helps, they're usually short, and very curious."

The girl beamed at him. "I'm short!"she said, happily, provoking grins and chuckles from several in the audience. That had probably been the first time the girl had ever been proud of such a thing.

"Why, yes, you are. It's a shame I'm not one of the special Grey Wardens that can sense a Slayer. But before you go and save the world from the Blight by yourself, try to let your parents know first, okay?"

The girl nodded enthusiastically.

"Now, when Merrick approached Buffy about her destiny she, of course, didn't believe him. So Merrick decided to prove it to her – by throwing a dagger right at her face!"

Xander turned suddenly at a random audience member and mimed throwing something at them. The elf man flinched and let loose a yelp. When he realized that Xander had not thrown anything, he chuckled nervously while others around him laughed openly, a few clapping him on the back, gently teasing.

Xander smiled. People always fell for the dagger routine.

* * *

From the shadows beneath an old tree, Leliana watched Xander mime throwing a dagger at an elf, startling him. She smirked and shook her head. No matter how many times she told him not to do the dagger trick, he always did it anyway.

From a good ways away, she heard Alistair clumsily try to sneak up on her. It was a weird little game between the two of them. He had never caught her off-guard, while she constantly startled him – usually while he was eating. She decided to not bruise his ego too much this time, and allowed him to get a little closer than usual.

"Having fun, Alistair?" she asked him, finally.

Alistair sighed loudly, and made his way over to her, any pretense of stealth was gone as he stomped over. Give the man a sword and shield, and he moved like a dancer, but in any other situation, it was a minor miracle if he managed not to trip over himself.

"I swear you're part-mabari, or something," he said, sulking a little.

Leliana laughed softly at that.

"How's he doing tonight?" he asked.

"Not bad. He seems to have most of the audience following his every move."

"Oh, did I miss the dagger trick?" he asked with a small whine in his voice.

"I'm afraid so."

"Damn. I always love that part."

"You weren't such a fan when he first tried it on you."

"Well, what do you expect? I ended up spilling the entire batch of stew I was working on. It was going to be a masterpiece of culinary achievement!"

"Yes, I suppose it was an unusually vibrant shade of grey," she said playfully.

"You just don't appreciate the art of good, humble Ferelden cooking – too much of that high-brow Orlesian stuff. All those sauces and spices, they've ruined your sense of taste."

"I suppose I cannot disagree," she said with a small smile.

Alistair was quiet for a moment, mulling something in his head.

"So how are you doing?" he asked finally.

"I'm sorry?" she asked, her brows furrowed in genuine confusion.

"I saw that little spat between you and Wynne. I didn't quite hear everything, but the body language was telling enough. So what happened?"

Leliana's jaw tightened. "It's no concern of yours."

Alistair nodded. "I see. I'm not going to push you into talking about it. But you do look like you need to speak with someone. You should think it over a bit."

Leliana was quiet.

"Alright then, I'll leave you alone. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, your majesty," she said back playfully.

Alistair sighed, and grumbled quietly to himself.

Leliana smiled for a moment before frowning once again.

* * *

It had been two weeks since they had left the company of the elves. Two weeks and Leliana still hadn't spoken to anyone. Oh she gave Wynne a few dirty looks but other than that she had remained silent.

There was a tension in the air, thick and poisonous. And that hadn't been helped when two days ago they had been attacked. The ghosts of her past had finally come back to haunt her.

Knaves that were little better than armed thugs had been sent to kill her and her friends. They were routed with little trouble.

And it would be easy to think that Marjolaine had simply underestimated them. But this was not a careless act. She was never reckless, even when she appeared to be. Her actions were always meticulously planned. Leliana could never forget that, because the one time she had it had nearly cost her life.

So the attack was a message. Those fools were supposed to fail. They were supposed to lead her to Marjolaine. But for what purpose? Another trap? That didn't seem likely. Why go through all the trouble of setting up an incompetent ambush, only to set another one later?

No. Not a trap. An invitation? Did Marjolaine want to make peace?

Leliana discarded that thought immediately as ridiculous. No, not peace, but an invitation nonetheless. Marjolaine wanted something from her. But what, she just couldn't understand.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Leliana turned her head to find Xander walking next to her, and Scooby dancing about nipping at his heels. He was having an absent-minded tussle with the mabari, as he spoke to her.

How did she not notice that?

"Aren't you supposed to be scouting ahead of the caravan?" she asked him with a trace of acid in her tone. She was more than a little miffed that Xander had surprised her, especially when he wasn't even trying to be stealthy. At least it hadn't been Alistair. She would never hear the end of it.

If Xander noticed her sour mood, he showed no signs of it.

"Nah, Zevran's got it covered," he said with a brilliant smile.

Feeling ignored, Scooby barked at Xander, stood on his hind legs and put his paws up on his shoulders and tried to lick his face.

"Aw, get off me, you mutt!" Xander pushed the mabari back to his four legs and then proceeded to roughly tickle the animal about his back.

"Now go play with Sandal. Off with you!" Xander playfully slapped the animal on its rump, and it took off, apparently to do just what Xander asked. "Best. Dog. Ever."

Leliana couldn't help the smile that suddenly lit up her face, and Xander noticed.

"My god! It can emote things other than anger!" Xander said.

She stifled her smile, and sighed. "What do you want, Xander?"

He seemed to think about her question, before answering. "A twinkie. I really, really really want a twinkie."

"What is a twinkie?"

Xander stared at her in silent horror. "I've never told you about twinkies – I have truly failed as a leader. I must correct this injustice at once."

And then for the next thirty minutes, Xander preached the Gospel of Hostess. And despite her best attempts to resist it, Leliana found herself smiling through twenty-nine minutes of it.

* * *

Later that night, Xander found himself sitting on a stump that was located next to Wynne's tent. He had been avoiding her for a while but he just felt it was right to talk about this now.

"I've been giving it some thought, you know, about what you said about sacrifice and I decided something."

"What is it?"

"I walked into being a Grey Warden blindly. I didn't really know what it meant to be one, and to be honest, looking back and knowing what I know, I'm not sure I would have chosen this again. But I am a Warden now. This is what I am."

He looked into Wynne's eyes.

"But it's not everything, I am. I have hopes, dreams – friends. Even here, in a parallel world I don't belong in, I've found people I care for and, amazingly enough, care for me, too. The day may come when I'm not fast enough or strong enough or – well, enough. It could be tomorrow or thirty years from now when I start losing my marbles and take to the Deep Roads. No matter how you look at it, life is always brief."

Xander took a deep breath, before speaking again.

"Maybe all the people I care about will make it harder for me to make hard choices in the future, I don't know. But I can't help but think that those very same people – those bonds that I hold so dear – they'll keep me human. I'm not really the kind of guy that can fight for some abstract idea like the "fate of the world", Wynne. It's too big, too vague, to wrap my head around. I fight for my friends. It's always been as simple as that for me. Without that, I'm reckless and empty. An empty shell doesn't save the world."

Xander paused again, feeling out his thoughts.

"What I am is a Grey Warden. But who I am is Xander. And, like I said, maybe that's not enough. But it's all I got to give. And if it isn't enough – well, that's why we have friends, isn't it?"

Xander smiled grimly at Wynne and walked toward his tent, leaving the mage healer with many things to think about.

**End of Part 13**

* * *

_Author'sNote: This took a while to write. Sorry about that. But my mind is a fickle thing that demanded that I write other things. Anyways, I hope this small piece can tide you guys over for now. I suspect Part 14 to be a bit meatier, but we'll see._


	14. Part 14, Never Happy

**Title:** A Rogue's Heart – Part 14, Chapter 7

**Author:** Wicked Raygun

**Summary:** For Xander Harris, the Hero of Ferelden, sacrifice is only the beginning. He ends the Blight, only to return to the home he no longer has a place in. Xander/Leliana.

**Disclaimer:** Based on characters created by Joss Whedon, and Bioware. I am merely borrowing them to put on a puppet show. Watch them dance.

**Notes:** This story is mostly a series of character pieces with sporadic action thrown in for variety. There's no real plan for this. I'll post chapters as they come to me. I'll be referring to events in the "Dragon Age: Origins" video game using Interludes. Chapters will actually continue the story forward.

**Spoilers:** And how! Events take place in the summer after season 3 of BTVS, moving into season 4. And all the events of "Dragon Age: Origins", possibly including the various DLC are up for grabs. If you aren't familiar with Dragon Age, then lower your head in shame. Go on. Lower it.

**Distribution:** Ask and you shall receive. Just email me and I'll get back to you quickly using new-fangled technology. See, I get email on my phone now. Surely jet packs and flying cars are just around the corner.

* * *

**A Rogue's Heart**

**Part 14, Chapter 7 – Never Happy**

Xander slowly came out of unconsciousness. His eyes opened and he became aware of being on a soft, warm mattress. There was a heavy temptation to just stay there, but, eventually, he stood up.

He couldn't explain it, but something felt wrong. His senses felt slightly dull, and his movements felt just a bit slower than normal – a sensation not unlike wading through water.

Had he been drugged?

His surroundings felt familiar. He walked out of the room, and then realized where he was – in Giles' apartment, the guest room.

But that was impossible. Wasn't it?

The last thing he remembered was that he was in Ferelden going to— Xander's memory seemed to fail him then. He remembered something about a tower, and then, well, nothing. It was all a blur.

Xander slowly made his way downstairs. Halfway down, he began to hear some voices. They sounded familiar and excited.

"Xander! You're up!" a deep, British voice said. He turned in time to see Giles, sitting up from a table covered in many different books.

"Xander!" two feminine voices said in a simultaneous squeal of excitement. He turned his head again just in time to see Willow and Buffy throw themselves at him and give him a long, powerful hug. He was too shell-shocked to reciprocate at all.

"But – what – how – the hell?" he asked flustered. This was impossible. It just couldn't be real.

"Well it certainly wasn't easy, you know," Giles said, speaking in his lecture voice. "First we had to find you using magic – and that was no mean feat."

"Yeah, Xand, the next time you leave the dimension try to leave a forwarding address," Willow said, teasing him.

"A postcard wouldn't have killed you, either," Buffy said.

That sense of wrong felt stronger than ever. Xander awkwardly distanced himself from his two friends.

"I can't be here. My friends in Ferelden – they, they need me. I was leading them. It was my responsibility."

Giles placed a fatherly arm on his shoulder.

"There, there – no need to worry about all that. I'm sure they're fine. And besides, don't we need you more? Don't you need us?"

Giles smiled at him, but it seemed hollow somehow – fake.

"You don't have to worry about being a leader here, Xander. You're with us, again. We'll take care of everything," Buffy told him in a sweet, loving voice that felt completely insincere.

"No, I – I have to go back. I don't belong here anymore."

His three friends scowled at him.

"Yes, you do!" Willow hissed. And her voice sounded so very wrong, like there was some sort of echo to it.

"You spoiled, ungrateful, pathetic child," Giles said in a voice that was more distorted than even Willow's had been. "Will nothing please you? Can you only be happy when you're miserable?"

Xander backed away from them. Too much was wrong.

"Who are you people?"

"We're your friends," Buffy told him in a distorted voice. And for a second she changed into some sort of demon.

"Like hell! Where am I?" And just like that the world seemed to slip away and he was in some twisted world with gnarly roots, and yellow skies. Was this hell?

Xander reached for the blades on his back, somehow knowing they would be there, and brought them out. He fell into a ready position as the three demons stalked toward.

"If you will not be happy," the demon that had been Willow said, "then we will feast on your soul."

"I hope you get indigestion!"

The three demons attacked him, and Xander did his best to parry and dodge them, but everything felt slower. His reflexes were dulled and it cost him. One hit, and then another. He tried to keep up, to move faster, but it was all pointless.

And then he tasted it – the bitter tang of pennies in his mouth.

He felt this before, back at the tower in Ostagar and then again in Redcliffe. The Taint had done something unique to him – something terrifying, something he didn't want to feel again.

But now, he was so desperate that he didn't care and he just gave in to the feeling.

Suddenly, it was the demons that were too slow. Everything he heard faded away to a high, sharp tinny noise. And the only colors he could see where white and shades of dull purple.

The demons simply stared at him in horror.

"What is that?" one of them asked, while it backed away in fright.

It turned to flee, but Xander would not let it. He pounced upon him, quicker than thought. And his blades drove themselves mercilessly into its spine. Then he lifted his blades from its back and in a single crossing motion he beheaded it.

The other demons did not flee as the other one did. They stood their ground and faced him, albeit reluctantly.

Xander growled. He was angry at himself for making the kill so impulsively fast. They had dared to wear the faces of his family. That was an outrage.

So he took his time, and made sure they suffered.

* * *

Xander woke up screaming.

After several moments of terror he found himself against the far wall of the room he used in Angel's mansion, holding the gladius Giles had loaned him. His hand was shaking as he swung the weapon around from one odd noise to another, and sweat dripped off his body in heavy rivulets that made him shiver.

It was nearly a minute before his rational mind was finally able to overcome his fight-or-flight instincts enough for him to begin to relax. He dropped the small sword to the floor with a hollow clang, put his hands on his knees and resisted the urge to cry.

_Deep, steady breaths_, he reminded himself. _Deep, steady, breaths._

The nightmares were starting to become more frequent. Of course, that last one was more of a memory.

_Stupid sloth demon._

Xander laughed hollowly to himself, merely a reflex to calm the nerves. After a few moments, he began searching for his watch which was the only time piece in the entire house. He frowned when he saw that it was barely past six in the morning. He had been out until two in the morning on patrol. He only found two vampires.

The first he had killed from a long distance away with an arrow to the heart. But his arrow missed the other's heart, hitting him in the shoulder instead. The vampire fled but didn't get very far before he collapsed in the middle of the street.

Apparently the "Mortuus Interfectorem" – the Killer of the Dead – was fast-acting stuff. Xander finished off the vampire with a swipe from his borrowed sword and vowed to coat the sword and his stakes, when he got a chance.

Except for one particular component, the ingredients were all relatively cheap. And it mixed with a mortar and pestle, very easily. The poison was a game changer as far as hunting vampires went, so much so that he wondered why it was never widely used before. There had to be a reason. And given his Hellmouth twisted luck, he was sure he would find out the hard way. Regardless he vowed to continue researching in the meantime.

And that meant Giles.

Xander gulped. That could also very well mean Buffy and Willow who he had skipped out on, after they had taken out Sunday and her minions.

And by "they", he really meant Buffy. She had really been in a mood to work out her aggressions, so he just hung back and let her tear the vamps apart. Getting in the middle of that just to show off his bow skills was just not a good idea.

And he didn't really want to field the questions about dragons and other worlds that were so definitely coming his way, if that look Buffy kept giving him was any indication.

So he made his exit in a cool, stealthy manner that could in no way be confused with him running away like a yellow-bellied coward.

* * *

Xander arrived with a box of doughnuts at Giles house. Hopefully, they would be enough to soothe the savage beast that was Giles without caffeine. The watcher was not a morning person by any definition of the term.

He knocked loudly on the door.

"Giles! Hello! Wakey, wakey!"

After about ten seconds the door was violently opened by Buffy Summers.

To say that she did not look happy would have been an understatement of epic proportions. But that was nothing compared to the withering glare coming from the redhead behind her.

_Stupid Hellmouth luck._

Xander held out the doughnut box at arm's length the way a lion tamer might use a chair and whip.

"I bring doughnuts. Please don't kill me."

Buffy took the box in a single, blurry movement. "Get in here!"she said in exasperation.

There was no way they knew about the blood ritual already, was there? Surely Giles wouldn't have betrayed his trust.

The two women stared at him, but said nothing after he had walked in. The effect was eerie, and made him shift uncomfortably from foot-to-foot. It didn't last though.

"Alexander Lavelle Harris!" Willow snapped. "What are you doing performing blood rituals?"

_Giles. Traitor. Dead Man._

"Well, first of all, allow me to clarify that I didn't 'perform' a blood ritual so much as I 'participated' in one. Big difference," he said pseudo-haughtily.

The two women folded their arms and glared at him, which pretty much killed even his feigned bravado.

"I'll shut up now."

The three then turned to the opposite side of the apartment where a bleary-eyed Giles was stumbling about and rubbing one of his eyes with the palm of his hand.

"What in blazes is all of this noise?" Giles then put on his glasses and blinked several times for his eyes to adjust to them. When he finally made out Xander, he pointed an angry, shaking, accusing finger at him.

"You! Do you have any idea until what hour they had me researching – Bloody hell! Where's my crossbow? I'm shooting him somewhere painful!"

Xander couldn't help it. He just started laughing.

It was good to be home.

* * *

Thankfully, Willow and Buffy's threats were more bluster than anything else. They were miffed to be sure. And he was going to be in the metaphorical doghouse for a couple of days at least for trying to dodge them for so long. But they were going to be fine, in the long run. Mostly they were concerned. The idea that he was involved in a blood ritual that changed him somehow made them worry. The details of his Change freaked them out in particular.

But of course that was nothing compared to the bombshell that he had died – twice. Willow had simply sat there, quietly crying and occasionally shaking. Xander sat next to her on the couch, and pulled her into a hug.

Buffy, on the other hand, quietly excused herself and went to the bathroom. They all pretended not to hear her vomiting. She returned a few minutes later looking pale and shaky. When she came back, she sat on the other side of Xander. He pulled her in for a hug as well.

There was certainly no logical reason for it, but at that moment Xander felt like the biggest heel in the world. The girls cuddled into his arms, clutching him possessively.

And also possibly the luckiest.

* * *

A van with darkened windows raced through the night. It took a dip in the road so hard that it became briefly airborne for a moment. Sparks flew where the metal body briefly made contact with the asphalt.

"First day, they come and catch everyone," a lilting voice sang from the passenger side, apparently oblivious to the reckless speed they were traveling at.

From the driver's side, a vampire with platinum blonde hair frowned slightly. As a human he was named William, but now he was simply known by the nom de guerre of Spike. And the babbling, mess in the passenger seat was his undead paramour, Drusilla.

"Second day, they beat us, and eat some for meat."

Drusilla was always known for being barking mad one moment to being stunningly lucid the next. But she rarely repeated herself. Not the way she had been for weeks now.

"Third day, the men are all gnawed on again."

She would be relatively fine and then suddenly she would start singing her little poem. Sometimes it would last for hours.

"Fourth day, we wait and fear our fate."

Not that Spike didn't appreciate a spot of poetry every now and then. He was known to indulge in the hobby himself from time to time.

"Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn."

Drusilla's rhyme was a bit rough around the edges, to be sure, but the imagery it evoked was certainly haunting.

"Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams."

The words meant something though. They had to. She was far too obsessed with them to be merely passing flights of fancy. Dru was insane, but she was also powerful. She could see things that were about to happen. And if one knew what to pay attention to, one could get a leg up on destiny.

"Seventh day, they grew as in her mouth they spew."

And in her lucid moments she would say they needed to go back to Sunnydale, back to the Hellmouth.

"Eighth day, we hated as she is violated."

Spike would be perfectly happy if he never set foot back there ever again. But it was what his Dru needed, so he would take her.

"Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin."

Spike sighed. _Almost over_, he thought.

"Now she does feast, as she's become the beast."

Drusilla smiled happily before saying the final line.

"Now you lay and wait, for their screams will haunt you in your dreams."

She closed her eyes and started absent-mindedly rubbing her lower abdomen. She purred contentedly.

"Spike," she called after nearly a minute of complete silence, during which Spike rocketed down the highway at nearly suicidal speed. Road laws, be damned.

"Yes, love?"

"I'm going to be a mommy, Spike."

"Of course you are, love."

**End of Part 14**

* * *

_Author's Note:_

_You know, I've always been baffled by fics where Xander just suddenly decides that he's not going to take any more "abuse" from Buffy and Willow and then proceeds to rip them to shreds verbally. And then – just for the heck of it, apparently – he'll start listing his own accomplishments like a Klingon announcing his lineage._

_Oh, there are a lot of those out there in the fanfiction wilderness._

_And I don't see how the authors who write these bash fics seem to think they're doing Xander any kind of a favor, since he more often than not just comes off as petty, childish and/or cruel. And funnily enough I'm finding similar instances of bash whenever I read Harry Potter or Naruto fanfics. And my guess is that it isn't limited to these genres alone._

_People will continue to write these stories despite my personal feelings about them. I'm just going out of my way to point out that I don't want this story to become a bash fic. Buffy, Giles, Willow and Xander are flawed people with complicated relationships. They are human in every sense of the word, and sometimes that means taking the bad with the good. But at the end of the day, they do care about one another._


	15. Part 15, Devil in the Details

**Title:** A Rogue's Heart – Part 15, Interlude 7

**Author:** Wicked Raygun

**Summary:** For Xander Harris, the Hero of Ferelden, sacrifice is only the beginning. He ends the Blight, only to return to the home he no longer has a place in. Xander/Leliana.

**Disclaimer:** Based on characters created by Joss Whedon, and Bioware. I am merely borrowing them to put on a puppet show. Watch them dance.

**Notes:** This story is mostly a series of character pieces with sporadic action thrown in for variety. There's no real plan for this. I'll post chapters as they come to me. I'll be referring to events in the "Dragon Age: Origins" video game using Interludes. Chapters will actually continue the story forward.

**Spoilers:** And how! Events take place in the summer after season 3 of BTVS, moving into season 4. And all the events of "Dragon Age: Origins", possibly including the various DLC are up for grabs. If you aren't familiar with Dragon Age, then lower your head in shame. Go on. Lower it.

**Distribution:** Ask and you shall receive. Just email me and I'll get back to you quickly using new-fangled technology. See, I get email on my phone now. Surely jet packs and flying cars are just around the corner.

* * *

**A Rogue's Heart**

**Part 15, Interlude 7 – Devil in the Details**

Xander stared at his hands – the hands that had just killed a man in cold blood. Before there had always been a reason or justification that he could hold onto to comfort himself: self-defense, mercy – something. But not this time.

He didn't kill a man in battle this time. He executed him. He made the man fall onto his knees, in front of his daughter, and took his head.

After all the lives he had taken, he thought he would have felt immune to this by now. But, no, this was something worse. He wanted to feel numb – hell, he'd give anything to feel numb. But all he felt was disgusted.

He grimaced and took a long swig from the wine bottle. And then smashed it against the wall.

"Fucking Loghain!" he screamed.

He could still see his eyes. They weren't angry, or accusing – just accepting. _Bastard._

He watched the glass pieces fall off the wall. It had been an expensive bottle. Cost half a sovereign.

"I'll never understand you."

Xander turned to find Morrigan leaning at the doorway.

"The man was your enemy. He would have happily killed you and everything you hold dear. He was responsible for the death of a King, and all the other Grey Wardens in Ferelden. Not to mention the town of Lothering, and every other hole in this country that's going to burn because he wanted a crown. Why should you waste a single second lamenting his demise."

"It's not about him. Not really," Xander said at last.

"Then what? You feel as if you've lost something then? That you are somehow diminished for having taken his life? You're alive. He's dead. Everything else is details."

"Having met your mom, I'm guessing this never came up, but the details are pretty important."

"To who?" Morrigan said with a scoff. "History is written by the winners. You won. You can tell whatever story you wanted. If it makes you feel better you can say he transformed into a darkspawn and came at you with a sword of fire!" Morrigan said in a melodramatic tone.

Xander laughed bitterly. He then stood up and walked toward Morrigan. He crowded her until she stepped back against the wall. He put his arms on either side of her, trapping her. And his face was inches from her own.

He spoke in a calm, quiet voice.

"I put him on his knees, in front of a royal court – in front of his own daughter. I cut off his head, with a sword. I watched it roll on the ground. His blood spurted on my face, and ran down my cheek, into my mouth. I was tasting his blood, as I watched his head roll across the floor. When it stopped moving, I stared into his eyes. I saw him blink – three times. I saw the horror dawn on his face, as he realized his head had been cut off and he wasn't dead yet. I didn't even know a corpse could do that," he finished with a dark chuckle.

"And the only thing I felt, was an immense sense of satisfaction. That's me. That's who I am. And I hate it. Those are the details."

When Xander pulled away Morrigan shivered.

"You should leave, now. I'm not feeling very nice."

Xander walked over to an unopened bottle, popped the cork, and took a long swig.

Morrigan walked away feeling confused and scared. And also very aroused.

**End Part 15**

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**Just a quick update this time. I am still writing this for those of you who are interested. But I'm not always capable of continuing. Plus I have other hobbies that take precedence, and other stories, not to mention little details like, you know, my wife, my job, etc. And it has been a rough year, let me tell you.**

**Did I mention that I don't actually own a PC? Because that complicates things for me immensely. I can't write at home. I may also be moving soon, so there's that.**

**Anyways, next chapter will be longer. I know because I'm already done with it. By the way, this might be the last interlude for a while. They're harder to write, since they're purely about feelings more so than plot. And there are only so many themes I can explore, before people get sick of them.**

**That being said, they do serve a plot function I assure you. Things from the interludes will resonate later in the story. So if you skipped them, well, that's your choice, but I wouldn't recommend it.**


	16. Part 16, Something Resembling Normalcy

**Title:** A Rogue's Heart – Part 16, Chapter 8

**Author:** Wicked Raygun

**Summary:** For Xander Harris, the Hero of Ferelden, sacrifice is only the beginning. He ends the Blight, only to return to the home he no longer has a place in. Xander/Leliana.

**Disclaimer:** Based on characters created by Joss Whedon, and Bioware. I am merely borrowing them to put on a puppet show. Watch them dance.

**Notes:** This story is mostly a series of character pieces with sporadic action thrown in for variety. There's no real plan for this. I'll post chapters as they come to me. I'll be referring to events in the "Dragon Age: Origins" video game using Interludes. Chapters will actually continue the story forward.

**Spoilers:** And how! Events take place in the summer after season 3 of BTVS, moving into season 4. And all the events of "Dragon Age: Origins", possibly including the various DLC are up for grabs. If you aren't familiar with Dragon Age, then lower your head in shame. Go on. Lower it.

**Distribution:** Ask and you shall receive. Just email me and I'll get back to you quickly using new-fangled technology. See, I get email on my phone now. Surely jet packs and flying cars are just around the corner.

* * *

**A Rogue's Heart**

**Part 16, Chapter 8 – Something Resembling Normalcy**

It had been a month since Buffy and Willow had started up at UC Sunnydale. And Xander was finding that his life was falling into a good rhythm.

He had been hired at the magic shop, and after a whirlwind week of training had been pretty much left to his own devices. Xander had figured he would just be a sales clerk, instead he was hired as a manager. The owner wanted as little to do with Sunnydale as possible. In fact, he didn't even live there anymore; instead, he commuted from L.A. once a month. All he asked was for the pertinent accounting information to be sent to him via email.

It occurred to Xander that he could essentially rob the place blind, and the owner would have no idea. Not that he would do that type of thing. But still it didn't seem like a good way to run a business. But he soon realized that the owner didn't care about the business, and would be just as happy if the place bankrupted or exploded in a ball of divine irony, as long as he didn't have to come back to Sunnydale. As far as Xander could tell, he apparently spent the majority of his time trying to sell the place. Xander supposed he couldn't blame him.

So there Xander was entering sales data into an Excel spreadsheet with an opened copy of Accounting for Dummies laying next to him. Xander had never been so thankful for the computer classes he had taken back in High School. He didn't remember much, but at least he could add up the numbers in the columns without the machine lighting on fire – something he considered a genuine accomplishment.

The bell on the door jingled, signaling a new customer.

"Welcome to the Magic Box – oh, hey, Buffy. What brings my favorite Slayer to these here parts?"

Buffy stared at the shop as if it could explode at any second. "I still can't believe you work here."

"A job's a job, Buff."

"Not when it comes with a mortality rate."

"And health insurance! You guys always overlook that."

"Yeah, that's only useful if you actually make it to the hospital."

"Details, details," he said, gently pooh-poohing her, admittedly, legitimate concerns. Generally people who worked in the Magic Shop tended to have the life expectancy of fruit flies. But spending a year as a Grey Warden had left him a bit jaded to threats of danger. "So what's up?"

"Anya came looking for you today."

It took a moment for Xander to remember who Buffy was talking about. "Oh, right, Demon Anya. Former Vengeance Demon of Scorned Women – who I took to the Prom. Now that was an awkward night. She spent the whole thing telling me about guys she disemboweled," Xander said with a shiver. "She tell you what she wants?"

"Graphically, yes."

"So what is it?"

Buffy paused awkwardly for a moment. "Uh, to put it in PG terms, she wants to seduce you."

Xander chuckled. "No, seriously, what does she want?"

Buffy stared at him briefly. "She wants to seduce you. Please, don't make me say that again."

Xander opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to say something but having been stunned into silence.

"Yeah, see that, right there – the stunned disbelief. Pretty much my reaction and Willow's."

"Hey, what the hell? I'm seducible," he said, offended.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "That's not what I meant. Please soothe your ego. It's just that you would be the kind of guy who would attract a thousand year old former vengeance demon."

"This is just what I needed," he said sarcastically. "There's really no way I'm up for dating Anya."

Buffy hesitated before speaking. "Yeeeah – about that. Dating – not so much her goal. Her master plan involves sleeping with you so she can get over you."

Xander laughed. "Seriously?"

"Does this sound like a subject I'm comfortable joking about? Anyways, I just thought that you should get a heads up. Speaking of which, I'm supposed to mention that Willow is going to kill you."

"Okaaaay. What the hell did I do?"

"Apparently, not be at your parent's house since last May. So either you're homeless, or you got a new place and haven't told anybody. So which is it?"

Xander winced, and then chuckled nervously. "Uh, promise you won't get mad?"

Buffy crossed her arms. "I make no such promise."

"You see – the thing is – I've been camping a lot?"

Buffy pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration.

"Wait, wait, wait! Here me out! Uh, I've managed to secure some temporary, uh, rent free housing. I snuck into a house with no residents and I sleep on the floor – and, wow, this is sounding way worse when I say it out loud."

"The technical term is 'squatting.' It's what homeless people do."

"I'm sorry."

"Do you even know what you're apologizing for?" When Xander didn't say anything, she continued. "Xander, you went through something extraordinary. And it's changed you. I get that, we all do. And we want to help, but we can't do that if you don't talk to us. You still haven't told us what happened."

"Of course, I have."

"Oh, sure, the Cliff Notes. But don't think we haven't noticed you've been hiding things from us. Not to mention avoiding us."

"Avoiding? I'm not avoiding anyone. And I'm certainly not hiding anything."

Buffy stared at him a long time.

"Who's Leliana?"

Xander stiffened. "How do you know that name?" he asked in a quiet, steely voice.

"You said it in your sleep, when you were passed out on Giles' couch."

Xander's eyes fell to the floor, but his jaw tightened and his fists clenched. How could he have been so careless!

"When you're ready to talk, we'll be here," she said quietly before leaving the Magic Box.

* * *

Xander closed up the store that night and began walking aimlessly – an innocent enough way to pass the time in most small towns, but in Sunnydale it was practically an invitation for trouble. Normally he'd be heading back to the Crawford Street Mansion, but after his encounter with Buffy that morning he was feeling overwhelmed. And although he was confident enough in his skills to either survive a fight or safely run away, he managed to still take a few precautions. He remained in the well lit areas of the town, where there were plenty of people.

Despite his earlier anger he wasn't looking for a fight.

Buffy was right. He hadn't really been trying to get back into his life in Sunnydale. Aside from the job, he hadn't really put down any roots here. And he was starting to expect he knew why. He was finally at a place where he could admit it, at least to himself.

He wanted to go back to Ferelden.

He missed Leliana. He missed Alistair, Wynne, Zevran, Ohgren, Shale, Sandal, Scooby – there was even a twisted part of him that missed Sten and Morrigan.

What an indecisive prick he was. When he was in Ferelden all he wanted was to get back to Sunnydale, and now that he was in Sunnydale he wanted to go back to Ferelden.

He needed to stop pitying himself and start building his life back together. He was practically living like a vampire, and that was something he could no longer tolerate.

Four figures moved along stealthily in the park. He caught them at the peripheral of his vision. Xander casually turned his head as if he was stretching his neck. For a brief moment he got a better look. It didn't seem like they were stalking him. And they seemed to be wearing masks of all things. Why would a vampire bother with a mask?

That didn't make any sense.

So that left demons or humans. And he was leaning toward humans since they were carrying weapons. He didn't exactly have a good view, but they looked like guns of some sort, not that he was any kind of expert – even his soldier guy memories were barely more than faded muscle memory by this point.

So were they were demon hunters? If they were, they had to be new to the game. Bullets might take down a few demons – emphasis on "might" – but they were obnoxiously loud, and not really guaranteed to do any real damage in the first place. Lead had no mystical properties they way iron, silver and wood did, except perhaps that it was so thoroughly non-magical. It was the whole reason why turning lead into gold was supposed to be such a big deal magically speaking.

When you fought a demon, you were usually fighting something that wasn't completely on this plane of existence to begin with. So you needed something to "pierce the veil" as it were. Thus the need for iron, silver, or wood. Silver bullets were possible, but too brittle and inaccurate to really be effective at anything other than really close range – which pretty much defeated the purpose of a gun in the first place. They also didn't do jack on vampires, so there was that. Ditto with iron. And the only thing a wood bullet would be good for would be exploding in your face.

And, really, most demons were built too tough for a gun to matter, even if they did any damage. They either healed ridiculously fast, had no concept of pain, or were just too stupid to know they were dead already. Some demons could have their heads removed and they'd still come after you. Hell, even a really determined human could take several shots with small arms fire and still be stubborn enough not to go down. Expecting different results from demons was just insanity.

Axes, swords, knives, stakes, crossbows – these were the real weapons of demon hunters, not because they wanted a cool, edgy, gothic look and got a discount at Hot Topic, but because they were proven to work. While guns, on the other hand, were quite literally the worst thing imaginable to use against vampires and demons. You just couldn't count on them.

All of that was Slaying 101, told to him by Giles himself when he was in High School. So if these guys were demon hunters they were either naïve or just suicidal.

Darkly, Xander wondered what that made him since he was actually following these idiots.

* * *

Xander cursed himself for the tenth time that night. His bow was in his car back at the mansion, and all he had with him was his gladius and two stakes. He hadn't even coated them with Killer of the Dead, so he was fighting with a handicap.

But, at least, he was almost positive that the people he was following were humans. They had occasional radio checks. Every now and then one would pull out a walkie-talkie, say something, wait for a response and then continue on. Now demons could be sophisticated, but using military protocol was probably beyond most of them. Or at least Xander hoped so.

They were dressed similarly, but didn't seem to have any identifiable markings as far as he could see. He had just been referring to them as "the commandos" in his head, since he couldn't pick out what branch they were from. Of course, that was assuming they were active duty at all. They could be out of the service, he supposed. Mercenary demon hunters – now there was a lovely idea, he thought with sarcasm.

He couldn't actually overhear what they were saying though, since they were in a cemetery, practically open ground, and he didn't dare get too close. Cemeteries in Sunnydale were always very well lit at night, probably thanks to some city ordinance the late, great Mayor Richard Wilkins, the First, Second and Third came up with before he turned into a snake and got blown up. And while there were shadows he could hide in, he didn't want to risk it if he didn't have too.

After a half hour more of lurking stealthily behind them, the commandos finally stumbled on a vampire who had been feeding. Sadly they were obviously too late for the vampire's victim, since he was just a slump on the ground.

The vampire was full of the typical over-confidence that many of his kind had, and decided to attack the commandos. Xander just barely resisted the urge to go over and help. Instead he moved a little closer, managing to still keep some distance, but be in a position to help if necessary. For some reason the implications of a military-funded demon hunter group made him nervous, so until he was sure these guys either were not a threat nor wildly incompetent, he would hang back.

But the fight was almost over before it began.

The vampire charged, and four bolts of electricity slammed into him. He was dazed, but didn't immediately go down. Another barrage brought him down.

So they weren't guns, so much as revved up tazers. They didn't seem to be too effective though, given how many shoots it took to bring down one vampire. And based on the fact that the vampire didn't burst into dust, they obviously weren't lethal. Against a large group these four would be hard-pressed, if not outright screwed. Still, at least they weren't dumb enough to bring a gun to a stake fight. Also he had to admit to being slightly curious what electricity would do to a demon.

He had moved close enough to overhear one of them say into their walkie-talkie, "This is Delta Leader to Home Base. We got an HST ready for retrieval. Over."

"Rodger that, Delta. Sending Retrieval Team now. Sit tight. Over."

Retrieval Team? They weren't going to kill the vampire? That just did not sit well. These guys were out to capture, not kill. Maybe they wanted to interrogate him for intel on other vamp lairs, but he doubted it.

He also didn't like the idea of more commandos showing up. He was pressing his luck as it was, and he needed to get to Giles.

So he left the commandos behind.

**End of Part 16**

* * *

**Author's Note:**

**See? That didn't take too long, did it?**

**I have a feeling that my introspection on guns in the Buffyverse is going to go over really well with everybody. ;-)**

**Please bear in mind, that I generally don't mind guns in fics. What does annoy me is the attitude that the Scoobies are idiots for not using them. I don't want to get off on a rant, here, but more than likely the reason Buffy and Co. don't use guns has to do with either a stylistic choice, or limitations placed on Mutant Enemy by the WB and their time slot. But there could also be legitimate in-universe reasons as well, so I decided to address them.**

**Yes, Wesley did use pistols later on in Angel: The Series, but, honestly, were they ever really effective? Did they ever serve a purpose other than being a distraction or mild annoyance? Guns in the Buffy-verse generally only serve the purpose of showing how desperate a character is.**

**Don't believe me? Jonathan, Scruffy Xander, Warren and Riley? All pulled guns on people at one time or another – did it seem like anything other than a desperate act at the time?**

**Arguably the only one who had any success with guns was Wesley. And again they only really succeeded in making him "look cool." I put that in quotation marks because I always think people look goofy dual-wielding guns. I can kind of accept it in kung fu flicks, since it's treated as more of a stylistic choice and there's usually no pretense of realism. But when they had Wesley do it, in slow-motion no less, I just sort of rolled my eyes.**

**Of course, that's just my opinion. I might be wrong.**

**PS: On a side note, Wesley + Flamethrower = Awesome.**


	17. Part 17, It Gets Worse

**Title:** A Rogue's Heart – Part 17, Chapter 9

**Author:** Wicked Raygun

**Summary:** For Xander Harris, the Hero of Ferelden, sacrifice is only the beginning. He ends the Blight, only to return to the home he no longer has a place in. Xander/Leliana.

**Disclaimer:** Based on characters created by Joss Whedon, and Bioware. I am merely borrowing them to put on a puppet show. Watch them dance.

**Notes:** This story is mostly a series of character pieces with sporadic action thrown in for variety. There's no real plan for this. I'll post chapters as they come to me. I'll be referring to events in the "Dragon Age: Origins" video game using Interludes. Chapters will actually continue the story forward.

**Spoilers:** And how! Events take place in the summer after season 3 of BTVS, moving into season 4. And all the events of "Dragon Age: Origins", possibly including the various DLC are up for grabs. If you aren't familiar with Dragon Age, then lower your head in shame. Go on. Lower it.

**Distribution:** Ask and you shall receive. Just email me and I'll get back to you quickly using new-fangled technology. See, I get email on my phone now. Surely jet packs and flying cars are just around the corner.

* * *

**A Rogue's Heart**

**Part 17, Chapter 9 – It Gets Worse… **

Xander wasn't sure if Giles still had company of the female persuasion at his apartment, so he decided to head back to the Magic Box, and call him first. But as he neared the store he saw Anya waiting by the front door, attempting to peer inside by cuffing her hands over her eyes and looking into the window.

He sighed, and then greeted her. "Anya, long time, no see. Whatcha been up to lately?"

"Xander," she said, her voice squeaking in her excitement. She then cleared her throat and pretended to act nonchalant. "What a surprise to find you here."

Xander looked around, he didn't see any dangers about, but that didn't mean there weren't any. That reminded him – nope, he could clearly see Anya's reflection in the glass, so not a vampire at least.

"Look, Anya, I got to make a phone call. Why don't you step inside with me?" Former demon or not, he didn't want her getting killed. And he supposed he might as well nip this Anya thing in the bud.

She excitedly agreed.

Once they were inside, he locked the doors and made a point to assure that the blinds were still in place from when he closed down earlier that evening.

"There's a table over there in the back, you can sit down at. I really need to make that phone call." Xander reached behind the counter to get the phone. As he was about to dial, he turned to ask her, "Hey, can I get you something to drink? I think I got some drink boxes—"

And that was as far as he got before he noticed that Anya stood right behind him, completely nude. The plastic receiver in his hand cracked loudly as it broke into several pieces – it never stood a chance.

Xander was vaguely aware that Anya was saying something, as she slowly approached him, but he'd be damned if he could tell you what. As she placed her arms around his neck, reason flooded back to him. He pulled her arms away from him and put some space between. The hurt look on her face made him feel like a schmuck.

"You don't – you don't want me?" she asked quietly.

Xander wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he just turned away politely as she started to put her clothes back on. When he heard her start to sniffle quietly, he wanted to pound his face into a wall. Finally, when she turned to leave, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Anya! Wait! Stop! Can we talk?"

She looked at him skeptically.

"Please. I need to explain."

* * *

Several hours later, Anya had fallen asleep on the sofa in the basement. He had told her about Ferelden. To be fair, he had told her more than he had even shared with Buffy or Willow. Somehow, he even managed to talk about Leliana without it depressing the hell out of him. In fact, it had felt liberating to finally get it off his chest.

He had been a real jackass to his friends lately, he realized. For some reason, he had been evasive, never telling them the whole truth. He was going to have to rectify that soon.

He was also going to have to replace his work phone, the receiver was a mess. He'd forgotten he could do stuff like that. Being a Grey Warden didn't make you Captain America, but it did occasionally lead to unexpected feats of strength, speed or stamina. You couldn't count on it. It was too random for that. And it wasn't like giving into the corruption – that strange berserker state that would take hold of him occasionally. But it would flare up occasionally.

He could remember Alistair once slicing a darkspawn in half with his sword – a single horizontal swing that sliced through armor, flesh, bone, shield and a mace like they were made of cardboard and he was wielding a light saber. He'd called him "Jedi Master" for a week after that.

Xander smiled at the memory.

* * *

"They were armed with guns, you say?" Giles asked sounding distressed.

"Sidearms. But they were mostly using these weird tasers. They shot out electricity up to like ten feet away. It didn't look too effective. The one vampire they took down needed to be hit a few times before he went down."

"And they looked military to you?"

"That was the vibe I was getting off my old Soldier Boy memories. They moved like they had training, but I could be wrong."

"So we potentially have some sort of commando unit capturing vampires – that is not reassuring in the least."

"I don't suppose you've heard of guys like these before?"

"Can't say that I have. If they're some sort of private group who just happen to have military training, perhaps we could reason with them. But a potential government-backed outfit could be, well, messy. Historically, governments haven't had the greatest success in dealing with the supernatural. And even less success dealing with those who do."

"So if the government suddenly knew about Buffy, how bad would that be?"

"We couldn't really predict, but it could be potentially catastrophic. Especially, now that Buffy no longer has the backing of the Watcher's Council."

"Not to mention Coma Girl back in Sunnydale General."

"Faith – Dear Lord, I hadn't even considered that. They could just walk in there right now, and – perhaps, we should go check on her."

"Good idea."

* * *

After having checked on Faith and the wards surrounding her room, Xander had called in the rest of the gang. Since he still needed to work, he had the group meet them at the Magic Box. The store was usually pretty low on activity until after about three in the afternoon anyway.

Willow of course took the opportunity to browse the store. She was currently going through the spell components section. Giles on the other hand was looking at a print-out of the store's yearly profit margins. Every minute or so he would utter, "Good Lord." Oz was walking about the isles, taking in the various wares like he usually did when he accompanied Willow. He stopped at the curios section where there was a shelf of shrunken heads, and thought it would make a good name for a band.

But Buffy was – well, it looked like she was moping. Xander wanted to ask, but decided it could wait. Eventually, he tore the financial reports out of Giles's hands and herded the rest of the gang to the back table, where he regaled them with what had happened the night before.

There wasn't much that could be done really, other than keep an eye out. A bunch of random military types wasn't something that could be researched. Giles, reluctantly, put forward the idea of contacting the Council, but it was widely agreed that it was best left as a last resort. His relief was evident.

"You know, I kinda dig this. Maybe we should do Scooby meetings here," Oz said, when they were breaking up the meeting.

Xander shrugged. "I'm not going to complain. If nothing else it saves us from witnessing the trials and tribulations of Giles' sex life."

That resulted in a chorus of "eew's" from the ladies and a scoff and glare from the Watcher.

"Despite being rather crassly put, the idea does have some merit," said Giles. "I suppose I could bring a few tomes here for when we need to research."

"Oh, uh, guys," Xander said, feeling nervous. "Listen, I, uh, wanted to bring up the fact that I've been, well, less than completely open with everything going on lately with me and my acid trip through the looking glass. I just wanted to say, well, I'm sorry. And I'll try to be more open about it."

"Does this mean you'll talk about—?" Willow asked leadingly.

"Yeah. Her, her name was Leliana. I should have told you about her earlier, but, well, I was feeling pretty conflicted with everything. I guess you all noticed."

"And what about being homeless?" Willow asked.

Oz and Giles turned a sharp look on him. They hadn't known about that.

Xander sheepishly ran a hand through his hair. "Well, I wouldn't say I was homeless exactly. I've been staying at—"

"Squatting," Buffy said interrupting him.

"Fine. I've been _squatting_ at Angel's old mansion. I realize that isn't ideal. But I just didn't want to go back to my folks. I spent a year thinking about my life. And pretty much everyone I missed is in this room. I just don't think I can go back to hearing my Dad call me a waste of oxygen. So, yeah, I get it. You're worried. But I got what looks to be a steady paycheck now so hopefully I'll be able to knock out an apartment soon. So don't worry, really."

Giles sighed. "You could just live with me, you know. You don't have to live in a vampire lair."

"I appreciate the offer. But, really, I got this. I got a newspaper behind the register. I'll start looking for a place today. Trust me, this isn't Mopey Depressed Xander. This is New and Improved, Emotionally Available Xander. I just need some time to get my life up and jumping."

Giles gave him a long, searching look. "Well, if you're sure…" he said uncertainly, leaving the rest unsaid.

"You'll be the first call I make." He looked to the rest of his friends. "Bronze tonight? We'll do the interrogation there?"

Everyone agreed.

* * *

Xander was doing some last minute sweeping of the Magic Box. He'd neglected to do so the last couple of nights, what with all the melodrama. It wasn't at all a delaying tactic, he told himself over and over again.

He was resolved to talk to his friends, but that didn't mean he was looking forward to it. He still wasn't sure how he was supposed to tell his friends that he'd been involved in a war, and had ended up doing things that he was ashamed of. How was he supposed to tell them that he had killed people – not demons, but people – and a few times in cold blood?

It wasn't easy being good at something you hated. Towards the end, he had come to a sort of peace with himself about his actions. But, still, even that had been hard fought. One would think that in an apocalyptic battle between good and evil, that the lines would be very clearly drawn. In fact, the opposite was true.

He'd crossed one Rubicon after another, to the point that the saying itself had become meaningless. And always was it done under the guise of the "greater good." Even manipulating people into doing his bidding had not been enough to earn his own reproach. And, sadly, even the unthinkable became almost palatable at times.

When Branka had made that offer in the Deep Roads to give him a golem army, he had to sadly admit that he had genuinely considered it. How many lives could have been saved in the final battle with an unstoppable army of stone giants at their heed? But having discovered the truth behind the creation of Golems, that fact that he had considered it, even for a second, turns his stomach even now.

So, no, he hadn't completely lost his way, but he had come damned close.

Xander sighed once more and put away the broom. It was pointless to delay any further. He strapped on his weapons, and put on a jacket to conceal them. He thought very briefly about taking his bow, but decided against it. Instead he left it by the counter.

And just then, the front window exploded inwards, glass shards sailing everywhere. A moment later he noticed that a heavy metal trash can had been thrown through. And outside were a bunch of vampires in full game face, including a very familiar looking one in a long black duster and with bleached blond hair.

"Knock. Knock," Spike said flippantly, as he stepped over some rubble.

* * *

A red-headed woman shot up in her bed, panting rapidly. Her hand went to her chest, feeling the staccato beat of her heart. Part of her wanted to deny what she saw, deny what her heart and faith were telling her. But both of those things had betrayed her recently. Her faith sent her on a quest with a doomed man she had fallen in love with. And so far her only recompense had been pain and lack of sleep.

But her vision, this night, there could be no denying it.

"He's alive. By the Maker, Xander's alive," Leliana whispered to herself as several tears escaped from a face that had become far too cynical and merciless of late.

Without delay she gathered her things. There was so much to do! But now, at least, she had a path to follow. She had to put into motion several plans at once, but that was okay. She was nothing if not adaptable. And the expense was nothing compared to the gain.

Morrigan! She was the key! She had to find the traitorous witch before it was too late and bargain for her help – with the witch's own life, if need be.

**End of Part 17**


	18. Part 18 – Before it Gets Better

**Title:** A Rogue's Heart – Part 18, Chapter 10

**Author:** Wicked Raygun

**Summary:** For Xander Harris, the Hero of Ferelden, sacrifice is only the beginning. He ends the Blight, only to return to the home he no longer has a place in. Xander/Leliana.

**Disclaimer:** Based on characters created by Joss Whedon, and Bioware. I am merely borrowing them to put on a puppet show. Watch them dance.

**Notes:** This story is mostly a series of character pieces with sporadic action thrown in for variety. There's no real plan for this. I'll post chapters as they come to me. I'll be referring to events in the "Dragon Age: Origins" video game using Interludes. Chapters will actually continue the story forward.

**Spoilers:** And how! Events take place in the summer after season 3 of BTVS, moving into season 4. And all the events of "Dragon Age: Origins", possibly including the various DLC are up for grabs. If you aren't familiar with Dragon Age, then lower your head in shame. Go on. Lower it.

**Distribution:** Ask and you shall receive. Just email me and I'll get back to you quickly using new-fangled technology. See, I get email on my phone now. Surely jet packs and flying cars are just around the corner.

* * *

**A Rogue's Heart**

**Part 18, Chapter 10 – Before it Gets Better **

Xander stared at Spike in open-mouthed shock – for exactly half a second.

In one graceful spinning movement, Xander had retrieved his bow and quiver, notched an arrow and fired a random shot. He hadn't aimed. He just wanted to cause a distraction.

It worked. Spike and his minions tried to duck out of the way, one took the arrow in the abdomen – not a kill shot. But these arrows were covered in Mortuus Interfectorem – the killer of the dead – a poison deadly to vampires. In about thirty seconds he would likely fall over in agonizing pain. In a few hours, barring drinking slayer's blood, he would be dead – permanently. But, unfortunately, with their supernatural speed and strength they could still do a lot of damage in the thirty seconds it took for this stuff to work.

He quickly fired a second shot, this one aimed at Spike. But the vampire managed to grab a minion and placed him in the path of the missile. This arrow hit dead center of the chest, piercing the heart and dusting the vampire.

This was not a fight Xander could win. He needed to find Buffy and the others. He grabbed a stall of merchandise and tipped it over, hoping to slow the vampires down. He fired one more wild shot and then turned and ran for the backdoor.

Unfortunately the backdoor required a key, which would cost him precious seconds. He unlocked the door, and immediately slammed it behind him. A moment later he felt a heavy weight slam against it from the other side. The door was metal and locked automatically. The vampires could probably get through if they were dumb enough to try. But it would simply be faster to go back out the front and double back. He hoped they wouldn't realize that, but Spike was smart. At best he bought himself a few seconds.

He leapt onto a green dumpster and used the leverage to grasp the roof of the building next to the Magic Box. With an agile movement he pulled himself up and over. He sprinted across the rooftop. He heard the shouting from the vampires. They were already doubling back. Damn.

He thought briefly about hiding in one of the neighboring buildings or maybe an alleyway. But his pursuers weren't human. They would sniff him out in no time. He needed speed, not stealth. He heard the faintest noise behind him.

They had already caught up to him.

He spun and fired an arrow. This one hit the vampire just off from dead center so he didn't dust, but he slowed down enough that a second arrow slammed into his skull, dropping him to the floor like a sack of flour.

Xander growled in frustration when he saw a second vampire leap onto the rooftop from below. Rather than fire an arrow, he continued running away. The neighboring building was two floors higher than the roof he was on. He spied a fire escape, planted his foot on the lip of the rooftop and leaped ten feet across. He caught the metal grating, but the impact jarred his shoulder fiercely. He ignored it and climbed up anyway.

A vampire landed on the railing next to him. Xander grabbed its head by the hair, yanked back, and then slammed it against the brick of the building, sending the undead monster reeling to the ground below. Xander continued to run up the stair of the fire escape and reached the roof.

There was a door leading down to the building. He checked it. Locked – of course. He ran to the other side of the roof. The next building was a floor lower. He took a deep breath.

He leapt, hit the roof and tumbled several times to bleed the excess momentum. Not the worst landing, but no picnic either.

He turned around to see a vampire staring back at him, shocked that he had just jumped another roof. An arrow in his eye socket was his reward.

Xander looked for a way down, and saw a large amount of trash bags piled in a corner – two stories down.

This could hurt.

With a resigned sigh, he vaulted over the lip and fell, trusting himself to the whims of gravity once again. He hit the bags and managed not to break his neck. It still hurt pretty severely. Luckily the adrenaline was enough to get him up and keep going.

He ran and ran. After a while he started to think that maybe he had actually outrun his pursuers. So of course that was the moment when an arm appeared from behind a corner and clotheslined him.

With the momentum, he lost his footing and landed on his back, his bow flung far away from him. The sudden pain of the fall nearly overwhelmed him, but he managed to roll away quickly enough to avoid having his skull caved in by a heavy boot. He looked up to see Spike smirking at him.

There had been a time when Xander would have been terrified of facing Spike alone. But that was a time before he slew dragons, built an army and crushed the Blight.

That was before he had become a Grey Warden.

A dexterous flick of his wrist launched a vial of holy water at the vampire. Apparently, despite what had occurred at the Magic Box, Spike hadn't thought he would fight back, so he was shocked enough by the sudden action that the vial collided against him, smashing open and dousing his chest.

Spike howled in agony, which left Xander a moment to pull out his gladius and stake. Xander opened with a series of slashes from his sword, with the hopes of putting Spike out of balance enough to strike him with his stake.

But of course it would not be that easy. Spike dodged every strike in a way that seemed almost to taunt him. Xander stabbed, spun, slashed, and thrusted but nothing landed with any impact. Deciding on a new tactic, Xander mimed throwing the stake, sending Spike diving to one side. Xander took the moment to toss his weapons in the air, spin around and catch them with different hands, all while putting him in a better position to strike.

He led with his off-hand, now holding his stake, in a new series of lunging feints. The wooden weapon making the vampire a bit more cautious then he had been when faced with the sword. He would punctuate the stabs of the stake with an occasionally flurry of slashes from his sword, but those were nothing but token gestures meant to stall until the right moment. His sword was coated in Killer of the Dead. His new plan was to wait for an opportune moment to strike and wound Spike, poisoning him.

Xander just barely sensed a presence behind him. He spun and drove his sword deep into the heart of a vampire sneaking up on him. The vampire's eyes widened, and then rolled into the back of his head as he collapsed on the ground and Xander removed his sword.

Spike tried to grab him, but Xander spun around stabbing his stake into Spike's shoulder and then planted his sword into the vampire's abdomen. He viciously twisted the blade and then withdrew it. He then lifted his leg and kicked him squarely in the chest.

The vampire legend, one of the Scourge of Europe, who had taken on three Slayers and defeated two, collapsed on the ground in an ungraceful heap, a stake lodged in his shoulder, and a hand holding his guts from spilling out of him. Spike could not remember being in more pain.

"Goodbye, Spike."

Xander would have taken great pleasure in watching the final moments of the bleached blonde vampire, but just then the remaining of Spike's flunkies arrived. If they expected an easy fight they were sorely mistaken.

He held his sword in a two-handed style and waded into the monsters like a hurricane of vengeance and doom. One by one, they felt the sting of his poisoned blade, and one by one they fell cursing, screaming and dying. The few vampires that hadn't died nearly immediately were comatose and would die when the sun rose that morning.

Xander breathed heavily and shook with the intensity of his dropping adrenaline levels. He spat on the ground in disgust and chuckled shakily. He turned around.

His eyes widened in surprise a moment before Spike's fist collided with his face, sending him flying back several feet.

Xander stood up shakily and feebly brought up his blade, but Spike ripped it from his grasp in a casual movement and then leaped into the air and kicked Xander in the chest, sending him sliding across the concrete for fifteen feet, stopping only when he slammed into a metal trash can.

Xander coughed up blood, and dazedly turned his head for a moment to see Spike licking the blade of his sword. The vampire's lips smacked together as if he were savoring a vintage of fine wine.

"Hmm, good old Mortuus Interfectorem. Haven't seen this stuff in ages. Easy to make, low cost ingredients with a fruity aftertaste and a hint of jasmine. Hurts like the dickens, I have to say. One wonders why this stuff doesn't get used by more hunters and slayers. Oh, wait, I remember now. It doesn't always work. And it especially doesn't always work on blokes like me who've had a taste of a Slayer."

Spike casually dropped the blade and walked over to Xander's slumped over form.

"Sadly for you, Lil' Spikey here already got his shots. So unless you've got something else up your sleeve, it's time to say goodnight."

Xander's head rose up to meet his gaze, and Spike was shocked to see a glowing purple smoke coming from his eyes. And then he spoke, in a haunting otherworldly voice.

"I can probably think of something."

**End of Part 18**


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